Kommando
by Portuguese Irish
Summary: In which Herzog, an archaeologist and an army of mouthy Nazi zombies try to take over a district in Norway.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: **after watching Dead Snow 2 I couldn't help but feel sorry for Herzog; now the Nazis lose in EVERY movie... Also, his 'fuck-you-I-have-zee-superior-rank' attitude is hilarious.

«And why an archaeologist?», any possible reader asks. And I answer... my archaeologist was supposed to be a journalist, but then I thought «Why would a guy like Herzog keep a journalist alive?», and it's an historical fact that Nazis adored archaeologists.

Thus, this story was created.

English is my second language, and German (2 years of high school and some attempts to talk to some of my cousins before switching to Portuguese) is just the third so... I'm very sorry for any mistakes.

* * *

_They had had all that work to gather valuable things... and now some bunch of idiots had taken everything away! Anyway, not everything was bad, they had managed to retrieve... 1 from 180 boxes..._

_Herzog let out a sigh, because he was used to sigh, and not sighing would be awkward. In fact, trying to stop himself from 'breathing' would be awkward and take a lot of time, time that he didn't have at the moment. There were too many things to be done:_

_-retrieve the missing 179 boxes_

_-gather some more loot, because no one knows about tomorrow_

_-retrieve the coin taken by the one-armed thief_

_-find ammo, because unlike some of his men appear to think, machine-guns are way more effective with them_

_-find his Mauser, he surely dropped it somewhere... and it can't be difficult to find a Mauser in a snowy mountain_

_-finally get rid of that small village with a weird name_

_-find more men to accomplish the previous task_

_With a snort, Herzog followed the deep footprints the one-armed thief had left. His soldiers followed him._

_He had retrieved the missing coin, but had lost an arm. Stupid thief, first his loot and now his arm; Herzog would not be that generous when they met again. But as a booby prize, he had gotten the thief's arm. Not as good as his own arm, of course, but it had to do, at least to salute his victorious troops._

_Now that the coin was safe, he could go on the quest for more men and get rid of the village, which would automatically give him the time and the perfect occasion to gather more loot, and maybe ammo, and then he could go rescue his Mauser._

_But the thing was... he needed men, real men, not skeletons. That was a painful blow and Herzog decided he needed to rest from such a busy day to decide what to do now. And as he and his troops made their way back to their cave, moving quickly and quietly in the forest, Herzog saw something that caught his attention. And he looked up, to the highest of the Nine Realms, and thanked._

* * *

Agnes locked the door behind her, adjusting the shovel on her shoulder and the folded plastic under her arm. She could have done that yesterday and already be on her way home, but no... laziness had taken over. So she made her way to the small archaeological site she was in charge of, not very distant from the small hut she had rented to be her headquarters during that week. The place was beautiful, a forest in the base of some snowy mountains in Øksfjord. The archaeological site was nothing exceptional, though; just a big runestone that had been found in the place where someone wanted a hut. So there she was, to save the stone, register the context and then cover it with a plastic, hoping it would keep the context safe from the works to build the hut.

To anyone else it was just a square in the ground, surrounded by piles of boards and a few working material, but for Agnes it was a little bit of ground with History, and she would like to know if there were more runestones nearby, because they were not supposed to be there. She covered the small square with the plastic and began to bury it with the dirt the men had removed to start building the hut.

And she was so lost in thoughts that she nearly didn't see him. But she did, and stopped what she was doing to take a better look: a man dressed in a Nazi uniform. SS uniform, more precisely. Totenkopf, now that he was getting closer. To be more accurate, an SS-Totenkopf Standartenführer. It was a very good costume, and the make-up wasn't that bad too. Maybe just a guy looking for the place of the party, but she couldn't help him with that.

Herzog took her curiosity and lack of fear as a good sign; that could only mean she was worthy of that task. He stopped in front of her, and only the semi-buried square separated them. He saluted her like a true German gentleman and, much for his pleasure, she saluted back with a smile:

"Heil Hitler." He growled. She kept smiling; cool trick with the voice:

"Heil Hitler." She replied. Then they just stared at each other, and she had the time to conclude his make-up, or mask, was really good. Too good. A shiver went down her spine when her hazel eyes met his blue's, and she couldn't tell what impressed her the most; if the intensity or the fierce shine of his eyes.

"Sie sind eine Archäologin." (You are an archaeologist.) He stated. Better, he growled, slowly. This time Agnes frowned:

"Ja..." (Yes...) She confirmed; why speaking German in Norway? She tried to look away and find a hidden camera or see someone coming from among the trees saying 'Ha, you got pranked!', but she just couldn't look away from... that man. Because that was a man in a costume. Totally a man in a costume.

He bypassed the square and she tightened her grip on the shovel. Herzog noticed that and the thought of being attacked by a delicate young woman with a shovel amused him. He raised both hands:

"Ich bin ein Freund!" (I am a friend!) He exclaimed. Growled. She tilted her head and he stopped at a few distance from her, and Agnes felt a sudden stench of death. "Und ich brauche Seine Hilfe." (And I need your help.)

"Wozu?" (What for?) And he took a step forward and she didn't flich. Much. "Wer sind Sie? Und warum sprechen Sie Deutsch, wir sind in Norwegen!" (Who are you? And why do you speak German, we are in Norway!)

He didn't answer, instead grabbed one of her hands and pressed it against his neck. She was about to kick him, but then she felt something; there was no blood running through his jugular and gosh, touching that neck felt like touching an ice cube. They were close enough that she could feel his breath, icy as the northen wind:

"Sie sind tot!" (You are dead!) She muttered the most logical conclusion, widening her eyes. Her knees gone weak and she would have fallen if the shovel wasn't there and if he wasn't still holding her hand. "Wie? Was ist los?" (How? What's happening?)

"Es spielt keine Rolle..." (It doesn't matter...) He assured, grinning. He let her hand go and she looked at it, feeling it abnormally cold. He then showed her a coin, a Reichmark with the imperial eagle and the swastika. She frowned, looking at it carefully, and then handed it back to the man. Dead man. Living-dead man, whatever, who was visibly satisfied with that gesture. "Ich hatte mehr... Ich muss sie finden." (I had more... I must find them.)

She just looked at him. Herzog sighed; apparently women were still complicated, and he really needed this one; archaeologists are a prized possession:

"Fräulein Archäologin, ich besuche Seine Hilfe." (Lady archaeologist, I need your help.) His grin widened, and suddenly even the skull on his officer cap seemed to do the same. "Ich habe einen Krieg zu gewinnen." (I have a war to win.). Agnes was still quiet, and he added. Growled. "Sie werden Belohnt." (You will be rewarded.)

She bit her lower lip, the Indiana Jones that every archaeologist has in themselves demaning for an adventure with someone or something that was apparently a Nazi. A Nazi zombie, that could only mean more adventure. So, why not? What could possibly go wrong? Her work was done, she lived alone and had a few more days to stay around... Agnes smiled:

"Ja!" (Yes!) It was everything she could say. And she couldn't tell if she should feel even more enthusiastic or be very afraid of that grin, that got even wider:

"Gut." (Good.) He looked at the square, curiously. "Was war das?" (What was that?)

"Es war ein Runenstein, 800 vor Christus." (It was a runestone, 800 CE.) She explained enthusiastically. Herzog glanced at her again:

"Sie verdienen schönen Dinge. Kommen Sie, bitte." (You deserve finer things. Come with me.)

* * *

Agnes made a note to self to always carry a bag with a jacket, because it was ridiculously cold, even though it was a sunny day. But the snow made sense, that would explain the Standartenführer's nearly perfect preservation. That and the fact of him being a relatively recent corpse. Walking corpse:

"Ich weiß nicht Ihren Namen." (I don't know your name.) Herzog stated, glancing over his shoulder:

"Agnes, Standartenführer...?" She managed to reply between chattering teeth:

"Herzog."

They climbed some more, until Agnes noticed the entrance of a cave hidden by the snow. For a moment, she hoped to find a zombie Viking or a zombie Neanderthal; that would be the archaeological discovery of the year! Herzog got in and she trotted after him, just to conclude it was much warmer outside:

"Wohnen Sie hier?" (Do you live here?) She asked, looking around. It looked like an ordinary cave, with a low cave ceiling littered with sharp stalactites. It was deeper than what she had previously thought and the long passageway was iluminated by only one fire torch:

"Wir wohnen hier." (We live here.) Herzog corrected as they reached a bifurcation. He signaled her to take a look into the left hollow, and what she saw was a huge and dark space iluminated by two fire torches, with maybe 80 soldiers walking around or just sitting on the ground. There was a Nazi flag hanging under one of the torches and things that looked like grenades and fire-arms on the ground. One of the soldiers, who was sitting close to the opening, came to stand right in front of her and opened his mouth, dripping blood all over his filthy uniform, blue eyes wide with a predatory shine. Before Agnes could react a gloved hand hit the soldier and his jaw snapped painfully. The soldier half-whimpered, half-snarled something like 'Scheiße!'

All the soldiers looked at her, and she felt smaller and looked over at Herzog, not knowing what to do:

"Sie ist keine Nahrung!" (She's no food!) The Standartenführer warned his men, raising a threatening index finger. An unapproving growl reverberated through the cave. "Sie ist eine Archäologin, und sie wird uns helfen!" (She's an archaeologist and she will help us!) He grabbed her arm and pulled her to the hollow at the right side of the bifurcation, a much smaller cave that was clearly his personal space; it had a field bed and a huge stalagmite in the middle of the cave, that Herzog had turned into a table by placing a wooden box over it. A candle burned over a helmet placed near the field bed.

He grabbed the box and opened it in front of her:

"Ich hatte 180..." (I had 180...) He explained. "Sie müssen die anderen finden." (You must find the others.)

"Sie können überall sein, es wird Zeit brauchen!" (They can be anywhere, it will take time!) Agnes wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ignore the unbearable cold. "Aber... ich kann..." (But... I can...)

"Gut! Sehr gut!" (Good, very good!) Herzog cut her off and closed the box, eyes shiny in the dark. Then he frowned. "Nein... Zunächst Sie müssen mir helfen, um mehr Soldaten zu finden." (No... First you must help me to find more soldiers.)

She frowned too, but nodded; that was way easier than looking for boxes or only the boxes' content, piece by piece:

"Ich weiß vieler gute Orte." (I know many good places.) She replied. Herzog nodded. "Wann muss ich anfangen?" (When do I begin?)

"Morgen." (Tomorrow.) The Standartenführer decided. He placed the box on the 'table' and walked away. Agnes followed him and didn't really expected him to take her back to the place where they had met. "Hier bei 7." (Here, at 7 a.m.) She just nodded and watched him leave.

* * *

"What is wrong with you, Herr Standartenführer; did your brain freeze?" The Doctor asked Herzog when he reached the cave's entrance. Herzog rose an eyebrow. A few heads lurked from the dark and bettings were made. "What was that?"

"A lady archaeologist, did your eyes freeze?" Herzog answered, looking away from the Doctor to the snowy mountains, admiring the beautiful day:

"It's alive!"

"Jealous?" And with that the Doctor gave up and walked away, rambling something under his breath. Herzog heard his soldiers growl angrily, some of them were bad losers. He grinned, eyes lost in the sky; of course she was alive... for now; if he succeeded in his revenge, he would kill her painlessly and then offer her the Eternity to work for him, which was an irrecusable offering because he knew all women's secret wish was to be young, beautiful and useful forever. On the other hand, if he failed that would only mean she was useless and hadn't find the right soldiers, and for that she would die, permanently.

* * *

***** all those 'Sie's and -en endings mean it's a formal conversation.

**Weeeeeee, review?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: **thanks so much for the review! :3

* * *

That night Agnes couldn't sleep at all because she spent almost the whole night looking for stuff in the Internet about zombies, looking for maps that signaled German cemeteries and presumable places to find lost German soldiers and also because she was too excited to sleep; let's say it's far from archaeological professionalism to go out for a treasure hunt (may the treasure be Nazi war loot or Nazi soldiers who were supposed to be dead), but who's the archaeologist who never dreamt of doing such?

Besides, no one would know; she would tell no one, she had no one to tell... and if she did, no one would believe her.

* * *

Herzog found out she was punctual. But unless other archaeologists he had seen before, this one was completely alone, not even a single peasant to carry her huge and certainly heavy backbag and her probably equally heavy duffel bag. Herzog thought himself a generous man, but he was a Standartenführer, leader of the Reich's elite, and officers are not supposed to carry civilian's bags, even if those civilians are young ladies. Besides, this one lady was tough, walking determinately like the snow and the climb didn't bother her.

This time Agnes wore a thick jacket, cargos and mountain trainers, but was already regretting leaving her sun glasses behind:

"Warum sind Sie allein?" (Why are you alone?) Herzog asked suddenly when they were almost reaching the cave. Agnes shrugged:

"Kleines arbeit." (Small job.) She replied. There was a soldier standing at the entrance, kicking the snow, but he immediately stood still and saluted his Standartenführer as he got in. It was the same soldier from the day before. Agnes wasn't sure of what to do, but when the soldier tried to make her trip she did him the finger. He narrowed his eyes and made an effort to spit blood towards her, but she was already gone:

"Sie sind Soldaten, sie sind unhöflich." (They are soldiers, they are rude.) Herzog explained, leading her to his little private chamber. The other was quiet and empty:

"Mein Bruder war ein Soldat." (My brother was a soldier.) Agnes said. Herzog just nodded, ignoring the light sadness in her voice; good, so she already knew how they behaved and she probably knew how to defend herself; this was how he liked his subordinates. He stopped near the 'table' and turned around to face her:

"What I want you do to... is to find me more men, capable men. And I need weapons and ammunition, and I trust you to make your archaeological magic and retrieve from the dirt the most glorious things!" The Standartenführer demanded. Agnes placed the duffel bag on the ground, removed the heavy backbag and placed it on the ground, looking for something inside it. She then showed Herzog a map of that zone with various red circles:

"These are all the places that have... frozen... German soldiers. Or used to have, this map is a little outdated and there are a lot of people paying well for WWII artefacts. Stupid thieves..." Even though she was about to be something like that, even if just for a while. Herzog nodded; stupid thieves. "What I plan to do first is using this." And she opened the duffel bag and showed the Standartenführer an instrument that he thought was a mine-detector. "It's a metal-detector, it will find everything from belt buckles to helmets." She shoved it into the bag again. "I'm going to check all those areas."

"If it's a metal-detector, it detects metal..." Herzog grumbled. "There are more things made of metal that are not part of a soldier's uniform."

"In this area, those have to be the only metal things I'm going to find." Agnes assured:

"Gut..." Herzog replied after a while, and made his way outside. Agnes picked up the duffel bag and her backbag and trotted after him:

"Will you come, Herr Standartenführer?" She asked when she finally caught up with him. Herzog said nothing; it was tempting, he had seen archaeologists work once and he had thought it fascinating, but now he had no time for that, he had to think on their next move. And he would feel ignorant, as he always felt when someone was doing something he couldn't do, and he didn't like to feel ignorant:

"Science for those of science..." He finally replied, stopping near the soldier at the entrance. "You are going with Fräulein Agnes, do whatever she tells you to do and protect her with your life, are we understood?" Herzog asked. Demanded. Agnes smiled; he remembered her name. The soldier saluted:

"Jawohl!" (Yes, sir!)

"Gut." Herzog looked at him for a moment, then to Agnes, and he finally walked back to the cave.

When he disappeared in the darkness, the soldier chuckled, and it sounded gutural and gurgling:

"You are so fucked, and you know why?" The soldier asked. Growled. Seemed they all growled. Agnes rose an eyebrow, surprised with the zombie soldier. "I have no fucking life, ha! You're done!"

"Whatever. Take this one, please." And she handed him the duffel bag. With a resigned grunt, the soldier got hold of it and followed her to the eastern slope of the mountain. They walked for a while in silence, until Agnes decided to try and make some conversation, because that guy was clearly able to chat. And despite their not so friendly start, maybe it would worth a try. "So... what is your name?"

"A name is your personal idendity, and you have no identity once your join the Waffen. You're just another one." He grinned; he was tall, only tall, unlike Herzog, who was big. His skin was something between dark blue and a light shade of grey and blood dripped endlessly from his mouth. Agnes was going to reply that, but he was faster. "Thought Herzog was the smartass one, didn't you? He thinks he's the smartass one too, but he's wrong. There's only this retarded ass, but his head was cut open so I guess there's something wrong with his brain. Don't talk to him, it's a waste of time." Agnes frowned and tried to speak, but the soldier was faster again. "I was going to marry, you know? But because of that greedy bastard instead of a wedding ring on my finger I got a bullet in my throat! Just in case you're wondering where this blood comes from, you want some? It's tasty. But I guess I just enjoy a good chat, you know? I remember being 10 and the teacher hitting me really hard because I didn't shut up for a second. The bastard was a jew, you know? You should have seen his face some years later, when I stormed into his house with my SS uniform! The black one, not this one. The black one was really chic."

"Are all of them like you?" She finally asked as he paused to take an unnecessary breath. She let out a yelp as he smacked her head:

"I'm unique, Acne! Unique! You'll never find someone as brilliant as me! I'll tell you everything about everybody, I know everyone; Gottfried is boring, Hans is boring, Herzog is beyond boring, Dietrich stopped in time at the age of 5, dumbest guy I've ever seen, Richard is boring, Fritz... no, Fritz is my besty, I'd rather give my non-life for him than for you, Jürgen-"

"Wait a minute, what did you call me?" She stopped, frowning. The soldier stopped too and made a face:

"Acne. You're slow."

"Don't call me that." And unlike Herzog, he didn't ignore the sadness in her voice. They proceeded in silence, until she stopped again and let her backbag on the snow. "That bag, please."

"Sascha." He grunted, handing her the bag. She frowned. "My name, you asked it. Goddamit woman, you're slow! A slow freak, you must be a really good grave-digger, or Herzog would have ignored you or just killed you for fun. You know how funny it is to kill someone? If they kill you, it hurts as fuck and it's damn scary, now if it's you killing them it's total fun!"

"If you don't like Herzog, what are you doing here?" She asked as she switched on the metal-detector. Of course Sascha followed her when she began to walk back and forth, playing absently with the now empty duffel bag:

"He wasn't always a bastard, I'm a veteran you know? I was with Herzog before we came to Norway, he was actually a hero back then. Boring, but a hero. Then he got greedy and got us all killed, then stuffed us all in that cave. And in the meantime he was never the same again, I never understood what happened there."

"So, you remember?" Agnes asked curiously, yet looking carefully to the small screen of the detector, waiting for something to show up. "I mean... you're dead."

"Oh, so delicate from you! I'm clinically dead, the Doctor said." He knocked his helm-covered head, happily. "But it's everything here! Master race of corpses! It was like waking up from a good night of sleep, but then I saw Herzog's face and it was even uglier than before. And the best part is that I don't feel pain, and if you cut my limbs off the Doctor will stitch them together and I'm good as new! But in case I get my head blown off I need Herzog, he does some weird trick and everything goes back to normal. Normal... eh!" He chuckled again with the sound of a drowning man. Agnes couldn't tell if she was tired of him or if she found him... interesting. "Looking for mines? Does Herzog want mines? I thought archaeologists looked for stones, not mines!"

"Those are called 'lithics' and pre-history is not my field. Protohistory is." She explained, concluding there was nothing in that place. She put the metal-detector in the bag again, grabbed her backbag and moved to another slope. "Herzog... didn't tell you? I mean you, his army."

"This is no army, Acney... this bunch of German soldiers, SS soldiers! Einsatzgruppe, if you want to be precise. And we had to run up here because a handful of peasants rebelled against Herzog, and of course we had to come to death with that stupid bastard!" He kicked some snow. "He said you were going to help us, but not how."

"I'll find more men! And next time you call me that I'll kick you in the balls."

"Find us some vehicles and a nice and comfy house too, can you?" Sascha chuckled. "I no longer fear such threats..." He grinned widely, showing his blood-stained teeth. "...but I'd like to know why I can't call you Acne, because it seems we're going to be comrades." Yes, that lady, he liked her; if she had the guts to show him the finger, so she could only be a cool thing.

Agnes looked at him, deadpan, and wondered how many levels of awkwardness would be raised by having a sentimental talk with a zombie. A zombie that couldn't shut up, because he was already rambling something about acne during his early adolescence. But she couldn't deny Sascha made her feel more comfortable than Herzog:

"My brother used to call me that." She finally answered, interrupting his story on how he tried to steal a cake from the kitchen when he was just a young recruit. He went quiet, humming for a little, and looked away from her:

"And your brother is dead." He supposed:

"How did you guess?"

"If he used, he doesn't do that anymore. And or he died, or he's a dumbass who doesn't care about his sister. And you sound sad, and you seem to have a thing for dead things because look at you now, so he's most likely to be dead. How did it happen?" Agnes was a little taken aback with that, until she shrugged:

"He was a paratrooper. One day, during an exhibition, the parachute didn't open... I was 10."

Sascha just nodded and didn't talk again until they reached their destination. He observed in silence as Agnes prospected the area with the metal-detector, having negative results again. When they began to move for another slope, Sascha decided it was time to chat again:

"Your brother was a genius for calling you 'Acne', and I'm a genius too for thinking about calling you 'Acne', so consider this a tribute to your genius brother being called 'Acne' by me!"

And she laughed, surprising herself for doing such. She decided she liked Sascha:

"Whatever!"

"Ha, you know I'm right! Right... Nazi... get it?" He laughed too, even though it sounded like a howl. Then his face adopted a serious expression. "We did lose the war, didn't we? What happened after the war? How's the world doing now?" But he added, before she could answer. "Wait, let me introduce you to Fritz first, then you tell us that story, because if you tell me and I tell him he won't believe me and he'll mostly stuff my pants with snow and that's really annoying."

* * *

Herzog sat on his field bed, looking at the map in his hands; if all those places had soldiers, good soldiers, victory was his. He then frowned, starting to think he should have gone with the archaeologist. His archaeologist, by the way, or maybe he should have sent someone else with her instead of Sascha, because Sascha... Sascha was Sascha, there was no other way of saying that. But Sascha was his best man, and Herzog had this little secret hope that there was stil some of the old comradeship between them.

He shook his head; he was above those things, intrigues and gossips, and battles and wars wouldn't be won if he wasted energy thinking about what his subordinates thought about him; they had to obey, easy as that, the lady archaeologist included:

"Your brain did freeze, didn't it Herr Standartenführer?" The Doctor asked and Herzog nearly jumped out of his skin. The Standartenführer stood up and snarled angrily, because he was big and mighty and the Doctor was small and fragile. "She needs food, and water, and warmth. You can't give her that!"

"She's not coming to live with us, she's working for me." Herzog went outside, but the Doctor went after him:

"She'd make a nice dinner, the men are hungry and excited after what happened, keeping her close won't do any good!" The smaller man bumped into the Standartenführer, who had stopped suddenly at the entrance of the cave:

"We don't need to eat." Herzog grumbled looking over his shoulder, to the Doctor. "And in case you didn't notice, my men are soldiers, and I am their commander. They do as I say, and that's it."

"You're deaf too, perfect..." The Doctor replied, coming to stand by his side. "What do you plan to do with her, after you satisfied your little caprice?"

"What caprice?"

"Of having someone doing your work for you!" And the Doctor would say more, but Herzog's hand was already firmly clasped around his neck, and the smaller zombie regretted saying that out loud:

"You know nothing. Leave me alone before I finish your miserable pseudo-life..." Herzog hissed and his eyes sparkled dangerously. He let go the Doctor, who immediately put a safe distance between him and the Standartenführer. With a grunt, Herzog looked to the snow-covered landscape, losing himself in thoughts once more as he clenched his jaw bitterly; he could find more men himself, of course he could... but besides the prestige of having someone specialised in finding things working for him, he just wanted to know who was right, if he or his men.

He wasn't deaf, because if he was he wouldn't have caught the sound of Agnes laughter, carried in the soft breeze. Frowning, he decided to see what was happening.

* * *

**Weeeeeee, review?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: **thanks so much for the review! :3

* * *

Not that he cared... And that sound didn't kind of fascinate him. Probably Sascha was just being dumb again; he had been dumb in life, and now was even dumber than before. In fact, everyone but the Doctor seemed dumber; maybe it had to do with the ammount of studying in life, Herzog hadn't figured it out yet. And as Herzog remembered, people usually laughed when they saw something funny, and normally funny things are stupid.

He was right; Sascha was... well... Sascha. Only Sascha would imitate the cossack's dance with an empty bag on his head. And Agnes seemed utterly amused by all of that. Herzog dropped his binoculars, that hung slowly on the leather strap around his neck, and he considered joining his soldier and his archaeologist just to remember them that was a scientific expedition. Then Agnes laughed again, louder and stronger. Herzog looked into his binoculars again; Sascha had fallen face first on the snow. He allowed himself to smirk and shook his head; he wouldn't join them, she was happy and Sascha was happy too. The soldier was happy like the Standartenführer hadn't seen him for ages, and the young woman... well, way more at ease than when she was with him.

Even though he didn't join them he thought it was a great idea to follow them. And so he did when Agnes finally calmed down, prospected the area, noted something in a notebook and moved on. They walked for a long while, until Agnes and Sascha stopped in a rocky outcrop and she picked up from her backbag something to eat and a bottle of water. Herzog, hidden behind some dead pine trees, dropped his binoculars again and rolled his eyes; maybe he should kill her already and spare her from activities such as eating, drinking, sleeping... the need of warmth... all of them useless and weakening, and good soldiers of the Reich, and archaeologists too, couldn't be useless or weak. He sat cross legged, making a little pile of snow in front of him; on the other hand, he needed her alive, at least for now... that worked like a camouflage, she could go unnoticed to places his troops couldn't and get vital information or artefacts.

Then she screamed. With the rush, Herzog managed to hit his own nose with the binoculars. Grumbling angrily and finally looking into the binoculars, he found out Agnes had screamed because another of his soldiers had sneaked from behind and stuffed snow into her jacket. That had to be Fritz, because where Sascha was Fritz had to be too, and where Fritz was so there was a 99,9% probability of Sascha being around too. Well, at least, in spite of Sascha's and now Fritz's stupid games, Agnes was working. Herzog decided he had seen too much, so he stood up, shook the snow off his leather trench coat and walked away.

* * *

"Acne, this is Fritz! Fritz, this is Acne!" Sascha exclaimed happily when Fritz sneaked from behind Agnes and stuffed snow into her jacket. She screamed and he made a face. "Annoying, isn't it? Told you...!"

"Fuck... And my name is Agnes, not Acne... Where did the asshole come from, I didn't hear him!" Agnes mumbled and undressed her jacket to shake off the snow. She then glanced at the new arrived; he was smaller than Sascha, his skin was blueish, his eyes were brown and he had a small hole in his chest, right over his heart. Both of the soldiers wore "Erbsenmuster", or "44 Dot" camos, and she felt suddenly curious to know everything about them and the rest of those zombies. But before she could even ask, Sascha was faster again; indeed, he liked that apparently innocent young woman's soldier-like rudeness:

"He's a sentinel, he stays under the snow to keep an eye in the surroundings! Now Acney, tell us about the world!"

Which she did, while moving around the mountain, prospecting and noting down all the places where the detector accused something. That took them the rest of the day and the two soldiers were quiet, listening carefully. At some point Fritz decided to carry her backbag.

It was already dark when they went back to the cave. Agnes was glad they knew the mountain, because without the map she had no idea of where she was, and she found out too late her flashlight had no batteries:

"So... afterall..." Fritz spoke for the first time. Growled, and he sounded thoughtful. "What are we doing here? The war was lost, National Socialism is no more and the Schwulen (gays) are getting married! What are we doing here? I don't want to be here, this sounds like a horrible place to be!" He then frowned and patted Agnes in the back, maybe with too much strenght. "I'm so sorry for you, Acne."

"Will everybody call me 'Acne'?" She asked as she regained her balance. Both soldiers nodded, grinning:

"There's no better way of being accepted by a group than being given a nickname!" Sascha exclaimed wisely. They stopped for a while, so that Agnes could rest a little before they started climbing the most steep part of the mountain, that leaded to the cave. The snow began to fall, slowly, and Sascha frowned. "Do you want a piggy back ride, Acney?"

"No."

"We're Nazis, we don't ask! We do!" Fritz said. Agnes had no other option but letting herself behind carried when Sascha grabbed her wrists and Fritz her ankles. The two soldiers ran, not really bothered by her weight and the bags', and it didn't take them long to reach the cave, get in and drop her unceremoniously in front of Herzog, who was standing at the entrance of his little chamber:

"Ihre Archäologin, Herr Standartenführer!" (Your archaeologist, sir!), they exclaimed in unison and saluted, before placing carefully both bags next to Agnes and leaving to the other chamber. Herzog rolled his eyes and watched as Agnes stood up, still a little dumbfounded. She saluted him too, but with the wrong arm. Herzog frowned and she changed the arm. His expression smoothed:

"Und so?" (And so?) He asked. She scratched her head:

"I'm afraid... only 4 places have what you are looking for. All of them in the norther slopes. If I had a GPR I would be able to tell you exactly how many soldiers are available, but I don't have any with me." She said. Herzog frowned again; to start with, what was a GPR? Nevermind, that was her business, all he cared was that she had found something:

"There are houses in that direction... am I right?" He said, mostly to himself. He began to pace back and forth, ignoring Agnes who had started to shiver visibly with cold. "That little village with the strange name... exactly! Perfekt!" (Perfect!) His blue eyes met hers and he grinned widely. "I'll take you home, you seem tired and I'll need you fresh for tomorrow."

Agnes just nodded and followed him. As they left, various heads lurked from the bigger cave, eyes shining in the dark and noisy useless breathing filling the silence:

"I say... he's going to kill her... tomorrow!" Said one of the soldiers. One of his comrades slapped his head:

"No, he's clearly going to kill her when he doesn't need her anymore!" He opined:

"Well, I say he's not going to kill her!" Sascha exclaimed, and all those pairs of shiny eyes turned to him. He shrugged. "Just saying..."

"I say we should kill her." The Doctor grumbled and everybody looked at him. "She's not one of us and she won't bring any good either! She's corrupting the Standartenführer's mind and-"

"Herzog said she would help us... and she hasn't harmed us." Another voice said. "I don't mind having her around as long as she doesn't bother me, it's not my business." And several grumbles of approval were heard:

"We should kill her, like that group of noisy thieves!" The Doctor tried again. "She represents the enemy, she's a local, she's-"

"What if we tie the Doctor and hang him on a tree?" Fritz suggested.

And that was how Herzog found the Doctor in his way back to the cave. With a chuckle, he used his SS dagger to cut the rope made of guts, probably some 'war relic' from the recent events:

"I don't know what happened, but I'm sure you deserved that." Herzog commented, walking away with both hands behind his back, once more lost in thoughts. He went straight to his little chamber, sat on the field bed and removed his officer cap, running his hand through his shaved head absently. He recalled the sound of Agnes laughter and it had a strange, but not unpleasent, effect on him; it made him feel cozy inside, and he knew he was the last... man... thing... on earth that should or deserved to feel cozy. But on the other hand, it made him angry; why Sascha and Fritz, those fools, and not him? Brilliant minds are supposed to get along with each other, not with a pair of retards! She should laugh with him, not with them.

The Standartenführer rested his chin on the palm of his hand, narrowing his eyes; he was not jealous, he was just... hmm... taking care of what was rightfully his. Because she was his, she was working for him, so she had to be his. Not Sascha's. Or Fritz's... they'd never have the brilliant idea of having an archaeologist to work with them. Maybe she could find the Holy Grail and restaure the old glory!

Herzog did a note to self to talk about that with her; _Then she'll realize it's more interesting to talk to me than watching someone with a bag on the head. Even because they can't say more than three words at a time, it must be annoying to spend the whole day with them. I get annoyed, so she'll be annoyed too. I'm going with her tomorrow, no more annoyances._, he thought with a grunt. Then he laid down, planning to stay there for a little while admiring the box over the stalagmite. But after a while that became boring, and he decided to close his eyes a little, just for the sake of closing his eyes. What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

_"...Sascha? Sascha? Sascha?..." Fritz's voice echoed through the cave. That was driving Herzog mad. That and choosing to leave the Doctor behind just to try to save more of his soldiers. From his 80 soldiers, at least 20 had died in the spot and from the 60 he had managed to escape with, they all had been ambushed and killed, one by one or in small groups, while running up the mountain. Only 2 of them had made it... but seemed that soon there were only be Herzog and Fritz._

_"...Sascha...? Sascha? Sascha?..." The young soldier continued, kneeling in front of the other soldier. Herzog was standing at a certain distance, trying to think, trying to figure out how to leave that cave and get Sascha safely to a hospital. He watched the two soldiers, and right when he was about to shout at Fritz and tell him to shut up, the young soldier went silent._

_And the Standartenführer found out the silence was unbearable, because that meant Sascha didn't make it. He sighed and tried to get mentally ready for what was coming, but the sound of Fritz's sobbing was even worse than his pleading. He rubbed his face, forcing himself to come up with a solution._

_Well... first he had to take Fritz out of that cave. Maybe they could make it somewhere safer, he wasn't sure if the locals wouldn't search for them up there too. He sighed, trying to recompose himself, and walked towards Fritz:_

_"We have to move on." He ordered. But the soldier didn't move, crying over Sascha's dead body. Herzog wasn't really in the mood. "Aufstehen!" (Stand up!)_

_Fritz didn't stand up, instead he reached out for his pistol and held it with a trembling hand. For a second the Standartenführer thought the young soldier was going to shoot him, but then he widened his eyes:_

_"Don't-" But it was too late, and Fritz shot himself in the heart. "-do that..."_

_Herzog had to fight back the urge of falling to his knees and puke. Trying to breath calmly, he walked outside and looked around with his binoculars; no one in sight. He then brought the two corpses outside and dug one big grave with his own hands:_

_"I'm sorry I couldn't make you an officer..." He whispered, closing Sascha's shineless blue eyes. "I'm sorry you had to die slowly and painfully with a hole in your throat, because I was too selfish to let you go... I still cared about you, even after what happened... and even though I never told you." He bit his lower lip, adding more blood to the already bloody mess that was his lower jaw. "And I'm sorry... about Fritz... couldn't take care of him."_

_He bit his hand this time, vision blurred with tears, as he used his other hand to close Fritz's brown eyes; his face was still marked by the tears:_

_"And I'm sorry I let Sascha die... and let you die too." His voice broke and he clenched his jaw, using both hands to cover the bodies with the thick snow he had removed to open that grave. When Herzog found himself alone in the top of the snowy, freezing mountain, he let out an inhuman scream and cried his eyes out, grief and anger and pain and hate and humiliation and despair. A violent snowstorm descended upon him and he yelled to the wind that he would not leave this world without making those locals suffer, because they haven't suffered enough, and that he would haunt them and the future generations until the end of times, that he would avenge his men._

* * *

Herzog jolted and nearly fell off the field bed. He stood up quickly, picked up his officer cap from the ground and smoothed his trench coat nervously. He noticed his hands were shaking.

He threw his head back; that was why he wasn't very keen on pretending to sleep, his mind was still a tricky, sneaky bastard that seemed to have a life of its own and think he hadn't had enough.

Herzog shook his head; that was past, and he couldn't dwell there nor waste time thinking about 'ifs'. He had more men to find right now. He shook his head again and walked outside.

* * *

**Weeeeee, review?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: **thanks so much for the review! \m/ò3ó

* * *

As Agnes exited the house she promptly bumped into something big, cold, stiff and that smelled to death. She gave a step back and looked up:

"Am I late?" She asked. Herzog shook his head:

"I'm just impatient. Old, grumpy and impatient." The Standartenführer replied with a little smirk. "And I was trying to break into your house, but you opened the door before I could see if I still have that talent to unlock things with a knife."

"I'm sure you have." Agnes said with a nervous smile and locked the door; what was the creepiest, working for a zombie, having a sentimental talk with another zombie or having the first zombie breaking into her house using a knife?

They moved to the first place, Herzog leading the way and Agnes trying to keep up with his large strides, something her backbag didn't help with. The Standartenführer was decided to make her understand he was the interesting one, but he also wasn't sure of how to start a proper conversation and lead it; demanding to be told about the Holy Grail without making some educated conversation first seemed rude, but the educated conversation seemed boring. Maybe he should let her initiate a conversation, but she was just a young civilian lady who appeared to know how to respect a man in uniform. He cleared his throat with a growling sound:

"Tell me about the Grail." He could ask about her health later. Much for his pleasure, she smiled widely and her eyes seemed shinier, but what she said next wasn't exactly what he expected to hear; it wasn't only depressing, it was confusing! And she was talking faster and faster and her heavy Norwegian accent sometimes made the German words difficult to understand. He decided he needed a conclusion as soon as possible. "Resuming..." He cut her off, and she shut up and her smile died, and Herzog actually felt bad about that. "... the Grail is not a magical object I could use to recover the glory of the old days and defeat the enemy?"

"No one knows exactly."

"And Thor's hammer?"

"Only Thor can handle Mjölnir."

"And the Heilige Lanze?" (Holy Lance)

"Museum in Austria."

Herzog grumbled under his breath and started to question himself; what use of an archaeologist if she couldn't get him the powerful stuff? Much to his surprise, she seemed to read his mind and answered:

"An archaeologist is not a propaganda tool anymore... or shouldn't be. The world changed a lot since you... died. The Grail, Mjölnir and the Lance are just nice miths to tell someone, according to the exact science. People don't care about History or tradition anymore, and now archaeologists are more focused on knowing how the economy and society of the ancient people worked without looking at the symbolics." Her voice was cold, sharp, and Herzog said nothing for a while, thinking of a way of getting rid off that situation; embarassing because he had surely looked like a credulous fool instead of the confident leader he was, and uncomfortable because he had made her wary when he wanted her to be more at ease with him:

"You are useful." And he snarled, angry with himself; not good enough. "I don't need magical objects, I have power myself." _I am__... how did Sascha say that one time...? An arrogant bastard! _He shook his head and tried again. "What I'm trying to say, Fräulein Agnes, is that I admire your work and your capacity of discovering and recovering traits of civilization from the dirt, and that in spite of not being a tool you are extremely usef-" He paused suddenly and concluded he needed a word prettier than «useful». "... helpful to me and I am glad we have met."

There, brilliant! He looked over his shoulder with a grin, but her frown wiped the grin away from his face. He looked down, to the snow, and wished he had just shut his mouth instead of making a fool of himself. But then she laughed, loudly and happily, and he grinned again:

"Nevermind." She said with a smile. "You don't have to call me «Fräulein»." And Herzog looked at her, and for brief seconds their eyes met before he looked away again. "Do you want me to tell you what happened in the meantime, Herr Standartenführer?"

"Hein." He replied. "Call me Hein when my soldiers aren't around. And yes, I want to know what happened."

And she told him, and as she spoke she noted how bitter his grin became, until it slowly became a loathsome grimace. When she was over they spent a long time in silence and Agnes took the chance to look around and admire the landscape. They were already on the top of the snowy mountain, heading north, and despite the sun the breeze was icy and the snow deeper, thicker and colder, reaching Agnes' knees and making it even more difficult for her to move. On the contrary, Herzog moved with the agility that someone as big as him shouldn't have. She let out a sigh and he looked over his shoulder, to her:

"Tired?" He asked, and she couldn't tell if he was concerned or just mocking her. He slowed down nonetheless, and they walked side by side:

"Not really." She answered. It wasn't exactly true, but she didn't want to be considered weak by Herzog and herself, so she just smiled and pointed the snow. "But my legs aren't exactly designed to cross snowy mountains."

That statement made Herzog look at her with a renewed interest; she appeared to be 'pure' due to her fair skin, the delicate face and the dark-copper hair, and she would be perfect if her eyes were blue and not hazel, and if she was taller. The top of her head barely reached Herzog's chest. Now that he looked carefully, there were some strange marks on her right eyebrow, like two tiny holes, and her long hair, braided gracefully over her shoulder, revealed one of her ears, also full of those strange marks. He felt curious and wanted to ask what were those, but he had been fool enough for a day, so he decided to stay quiet.

Again, she seemed to read his mind. Or maybe he just forgot to stop looking:

"I usually have piercings, but I don't use them at work." She explained. He frowned. "Piercings are these little perfurations you make to use an ornament. A metal ornament." Herzog frowned even more and narrowed his eyes. She rolled her eyes. "Jewellery..." And the Standartenführer just shrugged; women... Agnes decided to add some more information. "I have tattoos, too. Arms and neck, you just didn't see them that first day we met because I always use sleeves and a neck scarf to protect the ink from the sun."

Now Herzog was officially curious and looked closely at her scarf and sleeves, maybe expecting to see something underneath. None of them spoke for a while, until Agnes removed from her shoulder one strap of the backbag and slipped her hand into it, looking for something:

"Why is your bag so bulky? And why do you always carry a shovel?" Herzog asked without realizing he was doing such; now that he started talking, it was quite difficult to stop. Maybe that was how Saschas were born! Maybe Sascha was a quiet child who accidentaly began a conversation and turned into an abnormally talkative young man... Or maybe Herzog had just been quiet for too long.

She offered him a smile as she finally reached one of her sandwiches and the bottle of water:

"A shovel is an archaeologist's best friend. After a GPR, of course." Herzog let out a small, suffering sigh; he needed to ask about that GPR thing. "I brought some food because I eat a lot, my bottle of water, phone, maps, wallet with documents, notebook, pencil case, ropes, measuring tape and GPS." She listed animatedly. Herzog rolled his eyes; women and their bags... "And I always carry a knife on my belt and, of course, some lip balm."

Herzog rolled his eyes again, because women...:

"What is a GPR? And a GPS?" He asked. "And why so many things?"

She took a bite of her sandwich and the Standartenführer thought it would be educated to stop and let her eat, even though that would delay him and his glorious plans for victory; but nevermind, he had an eternity. So they stopped and sat on the snow, Agnes talking happily about the utility of the stuff she had in her bag and explaining what were a GPR and a GPS. Herzog listened carefully, looking around sometimes to be sure none of his soldiers would show up and ruin the moment, because he was actually enjoying having someone to talk to, especially because that someone talked back.

He really missed that, being able to have a decent chat with one of his subordinates. And he had this little advantage of Agnes not knowing exactly who he was, because he wasn't stupid and wasn't going to tell her, so at her eyes he would be just a good, great and powerful leader of men and appraiser of archaeological work. Still, he scratched his chin and narrowed his eyes a little; maybe he shouldn't leave Sascha, or anyone else, around her... they were dumb, but they were still able to comunicate. He didn't want that:

"And how did you end up here?" She suddenly asked as they stood up. Herzog nearly lost his balance again. "Sascha told me some peasants rebelled."

"Exactly." He answered dryly, remembering why he wasn't much of a talker; he liked to know and ask... but he didn't like to be asked. Agnes noticed the tone of his voice and decided not to insist in the subject.

They moved again and Herzog was back to his usual quiet and gloomy mood and large strides. Agnes tried to keep up again but she started to limp. Herzog heard her curse and glanced behind, rising an eyebrow:

"Bad knee..." She explained with a sad smile. Herzog rose both eyebrows. "I got injured. I used to practice some martial arts..."

"I practiced fencing!" Herzog exclaimed, interested again. "And wrestling. What about you, Fräulein?"

"Systema and Sambo." Her smile became brighter but Herzog went deadpan. She chuckled. "Russian martial arts. Useful, good and tough."

"Why Russian?" Herzog asked, aggrieved. She shrugged:

"That's what they taught to my brother, so I learned that too."

"Why didn't they teach your brother something non-Russian?" And Herzog went on an endless rambling about Slavs and didn't miss the first place because Agnes pulled his sleeve and told him they had arrived.

She put her backbag on the ground and prepared to delimitate the excavation area with the ropes, but Herzog chuckled and patted her head:

"No Agnes... you just need to watch." He assured. Agnes wanted to reply with the immportance of the archaeological context and stratigraphy, but he turned his back at her and punched the snow violently. She gaped as she watched the snow crack with a strange blue light, followed by a moment of silence. Then 20 men rose from under the snow and she hid behind Herzog, her eyes wide:

"Holy fuck, you're a necromancer!" She whispered. "My life feels so cool right now!"

The Standartenführer just grinned, pleased with the devotion on her voice and amused with that little head peeking from behind him. He took a look at his new troops; 20 Wehrmacht soldiers, just privates. They all had guns and grenades, but they probably didn't work anymore. 5 of them had a snow camo and he couldn't see any deadly wounds on them, so maybe they got lost over there. He looked behind, to Agnes, and decided to make use of his archaeologist:

"Not dead in combat, right? What happened to them?" He asked. Slowly, Agnes came to stand beside him:

"Wehrmacht... they probably got lost for some reason. They are armed, maybe they were patrolling... or following someone, I don't know." She looked at him, eyes shiny with excitement. "They're archaeological artefacts, can I ask them?"

Herzog nodded; they looked dumb, Agnes wouldn't find out much. He turned around and walked away, to the next place, and everyone followed him. While walking, Agnes' words echoed in his head; _archaeological artefacts_... did she consider him an object too? A study subject only useful to give her information?

That hurt his pride. But considering he just wanted her archaeological expertise, seemed fair enough. Didn't it?

* * *

By the end of the day Herzog had more 30 men; 20 Wehrmacht soldiers and 10 men from various SS divisions, including a «Panzerless» Panzer crew member with an eye-patch, who seemed utterly sad by realising both his crew and Panzer were not among Herzog's new forces:

"We were on the road near the mountain's base and an avalanche caught us, my guys and our tank got stuck. I left to look for help." He told Agnes and kicked some snow. "I got lost in this bloody place!"

"There's a Tiger tank in the local museum!" Agnes exclaimed. The only eye of the SS zombie shone with hope while Herzog's, whose attention was caught by Agnes' words while counting his troops, shone with interest:

"Where is that museum?" The Standartenführer asked:

"We'll be there by tomorrow morning if we keep walking. Just head north." Agnes answered. Herzog turned around to look at the indicated direction; down the mountain, across some valleys with a few woods... he knew that place... it leaded to the little village.

Just perfect.

The Standartenführer let out a roar that echoed through the mountain. Few minutes later, his 80 men, his Einsatzgruppe, was reunited with the new 30 soldiers; now that was something!

'Vorwärts marsch!' (Forward!), he ordered.

Agnes looked around, to the moving undead troops, shrugged and followed Herzog, her coolest employer until the moment.

* * *

**Weeeeeeee, review?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: **thanks so much for the reviews! *manly tear*

* * *

Agnes decided to spare the sandwich and had a cereal bar as dinner instead. She had intented to join Sascha and Fritz, marching just 4 lines behind her, but Herzog had made it clear he wanted her right beside him. And since he seemed too absorbed in thoughts to talk, she decided to think too and focused on what the Cavalry soldier said; he had escaped... but if he had escaped, so maybe the others did it too, but later. She looked behind, the zombie was right there:

"Hey, where were you when your tank was caught by the avalanche?" he asked. Herzog interrupted his day-dreams of glory to listen carefully to her words, automatically going back to his perfect plans when the soldier began to speak:

"I was sitting on the turret, my guys didn't want me to smoke inside." The soldier replied, after thinking for a while:

"Was the hatch closed?"

"Ja..."

"How thick was the layer of snow?"

"Quite a lot, it pushed me a few meters away and the tank was completely buried. It was a Tiger I, young lady..." The soldier added a little dryly; women are not supposed to know about tanks, are they? Herzog caught «buried» and the rude tone of the soldier's voice and the gloved back of his hand hit the soldier in the face:

"Fräulein Agnes is an archaeologist, if there's someone who knows about buried things, that's her." The Standartenführer said. Then he glanced behind, threatingly. "Respect her."

It was too cold, otherwise Agnes would have blushed; she was used to defend herself, not to others defending her. The only eye of the soldier moved towards her and he seemed to pout. Agnes shrugged:

"They could have escaped. Even if the layer was thick the hatch could be open. Or even the shockwave of a shot could have helped, but wasting ammo like that seems idiot. Did you try to dig them out?"

"Nein!" The zombie hissed, irritated. "In a moment my tank and my boys were there, and in the other there was just freaking snow! I ran to get them help, what if someone showed up and noticed what I was doing, they'd shoot me and my guys! This way only I would be shot if some malicious peasant appeared!"

Agnes chuckled with the last part:

"But what was a tank doing alone here?" She asked. "I can't recall any tank battles in this place."

"We were supposed to be a reinforcement." The zombie told, slipping his hands in his pockets. The slope was steep and the snow was even deeper than before. Agnes let out a sigh as it reached her thighs, but at least she wasn't limping anymore. Herzog frowned and interrupted his day-dreams again before the word «reinforcement». "There was an Einsatzgruppe all alone here, I hope they made it."

"No, we didn't..." Herzog grumbled angrily and the tank crew member widened his eye. "I should kill you again!"

"But it was the avalanche, Herr Standartenführer!" The zombie replied sadly. Herzog stopped suddenly, turned around and grabbed him by the collar of his uniform:

"Who was your commander?" He asked in a whisper. Agnes looked at them both, confused:

"SS-Rottenführer Bergen, Herr Standartenführer." (Corporal Bergen, sir.) The one-eyed zombie answered immediatly. Herzog narrowed his eyes, until he shrugged and let go the other. He turned around and started walking again; don't waste time with 'ifs'...

They marched as silently as they could. To Agnes, the sound of low growls and noisy breathing made her think about a gigantic cat purring happily. That story about the tank had made her curious, so curious she even forgot to feel sleepy, or tired, or hungry, or cold; she was sure the tank at the museum had been recovered nearby... in fact, everything in that museum had been recovered in that area, it was everything from that district. So if the tank was there, the crew had to be too. She started to bite her lower lip, thinking; WWII was one of her favourite subjects, she had made sure she knew every single place related to that subject in Norway. She revised every German cemetery she had visited, and she was sure there wasn't any Cavalry soldier buried there:

"Come on, this place is not that big! They have to be somewhere!" She mumbled in Norwegian. Herzog looked at her:

"Wie bitte?" (I beg your pardon?) He asked. Agnes shook her head:

"Just thinking..." She replied, switching to German. Herzog made a face; he knew she was thinking, that was obvious! He wanted to know what she was thinking about... And for the third time that day, and the second time he forgot to stop looking, she seemed to read his mind. "This is a small district with small villages... It's just a place of fishermen... Everything that's in the museum is local, including the tank. So the crew must be somewhere here, too!"

She sounded resentful, but Herzog couldn't tell why. Maybe she was just frustrated about the missing crew... When he was about to tell her to not worry about that and that she had already made an excellent job, she asked the one-eyed soldier something else:

"That road down there?" And she pointed the road in the base of the mountains, that no one could see because it was too dark but that everyone knew it was there, because they all knew the area. The soldier nodded and she went quiet again, thinking.

* * *

The layer of snow was now shorter and not so thick, so Agnes supposed they were almost in the valley. She couldn't see anyhing in front of her and Herzog surely wouldn't want her to use her flashlight, so she trusted the man... dead man... beside her to guide her, because he seemed to be able to see at least where to put his feet and Agnes used the sound of his steady pace to guide herself. That and the feeling of having a wall of bricks right next to her. Or a fridge with an open door, because damn!, Herzog was colder than the air and the snow around her. This leaded her to put the Tiger I and its crew aside for a while and wonder on a few things she didn't know yet:

-did they know they were dead? Sascha knew for sure, but the tank lad seemed someone who had just waken up from a nap...

-if they knew they were dead, were they self-conscious of how they looked, how they smelled...?

-and if they were self-conscious about that, were they okay with that? Where they all like Herzog, dead and powerful and perfectly aware of his power?

-and come on, how did Herzog become a necromancer in the first place? And did he «necromance» himself?

-Sascha and Fritz weren't happy at all, were they all like that? And if they weren't, why not running away, or suiciding, or rebelling, or something like that?

-did the guy with the stick coming out of one of his eyes knew he had a stick instead of an eye? Did he like the stick? Did he use it like a weapon?

Then she felt asphalt under her mountain trainers and the thoughts about the tank and its crew came back to her mind:

"Hein..." She called and stopped, just to shake her head quickly. "I mean, Herr Standartenführer! Can I ask you something?"

Herzog was still dealing with the fact of being called by his first name after all that time. He took a while to nod and felt stupid:

"Ja..."

"Can you do that... that thing you do... in the snow... I would like to be sure of something."

The Standartenführer just blinked his eyes, slowly, then he told his men to wait a little and walked back to the snowy base of the mountain, followed by Agnes. He punched the snow and it cracked in all directions, the blue light filling the darkness for brief seconds. There was silence and nothing happened.

When the young woman was about to sigh disappointedly, a hand emerged from the ground and grabbed her ankle painfully. She was not the kind of going hysterical and screaming, so she cursed exactly as her brother and his comrades had taught her and lost her ballance. Yet Herzog caught her by the arm, quite painfully, but still stopping her from falling.

The hand let go her ankle and there was the sound of something emerging from the ground. More than one thing emerging from the gound, in fact:

"Was ist los?" (What's happening?) A voice asked:

"Herr Rottenführer?" (Corporal, sir?) This was the one-eyed zombie:

"Michael, mein kleiner Idiot!" (Michael, my little idiot!) Followed by the sound of steps and bodies hugging. The rest of the troops decided it was a good moment to chat. Agnes, whose arm was still under Herzog's firm grip, removed her flashlight from one of the pockets of her cargos and switched it on:

"Ach, meine Augen!" (Ouch, my eyes!) Sascha yelped, squeezing his eyes shut, even though his pupils didn't react to the light. "Damn it, right into my eyes, if you can do that with a flashlight I'm not giving you a rifle!"

"Sorry..." The archaeologist mumbled and pointed the flashlight to the noisy tank crew; they were 3 at all... one was still missing, they had to be at least 4... or 5. One of the crew members, surely the Rottenführer, offered his own Iron Cross 2nd Class to Michael. _Sweet., _she thought with a smile.

She turned the light at Herzog. His face showed no emotion and he was standing like he was watching something absolutely normal. However, Agnes didn't miss the look he and Sascha exchanged for brief seconds, and for the first time since she had met him, Sascha looked sad and angry:

"Vorwärts marsch!" (Forwards!) Herzog finally commanded, calmly. "And you turn that light off, they are indiscreet enough."

Agnes obeyed quietly and she had the feeling the Standartenführer was disturbed by something, but she had already understood he didn't like to be asked things.

And so they walked for the whole night, because that just couldn't be considered marching. The Einsatzgruppe wanted to know better their new Wehrmacht and other SS comrades and the Panzer crew seemed a group of giggling teenage girls. Agnes was starting to feel uncomfortable with the sudden bad vibes coming from the Standartenführer beside her and she was sure that sooner or later she'd go face first into a tree:

"How did you know they were there?" Herzog asked in a low growl, breaking the silence between them and actually easing the mood:

"It was a lucky guess... and an archaologist's 6th sense, too." She smiled and yawned, starting to actually feel tired. "Can you see in the dark?"

"Nein."

"None of your men can?"

"Nein."

"So we all can walk face first into a tree?" And she heard him chuckle, because she couldn't see him, only the occasional shine of his eyes and a dark figure that somehow managed to be darker than the darkness surrounding them:

"That surelly won't happen to me." Herzog assured. "Even though I can't see anything, I feel. I can feel your presence and that big pine branch that I avoided by lowering my head, just like all the things that surround me."

"How?" And the wonder he heard in her voice made him smile. A real smile, not one of his usual grins. One of his soldiers cursed, someone who was too entertained chatting to see where to go. Herzog shrugged and kicked a stone out of Agnes' way:

"I just feel. It's complicated." He finally answered.

* * *

At dawn the museum was visible in the horizon. Agnes was feeling exhausted.

They came to a halt at the base of the small hill where the museum was built:

"Fast and efficient, will you?" Herzog asked, even though it sounded like an order. His troops nodded and Herzog tilted his head to one side. With a roar, his troops ran up the hill. The Standartenführer followed them calmly and Agnes had no other option than going after him.

Her yawn turned into a horrified gape as she reached the top of the hill: tourists running, zombies running after tourists, tourists not making it, gore fest. The tank crew was using someone's intestines to steal gasoline from one of the tourists' buses:

"What the fuck am I watching...?" She muttered under her breath, frowning. Herzog seemed to forget about her and walked into the museum, and she approached the Tiger I, where Michael was standing like a normal citizen would do when filling the car's deposit. "Does it even work?"

"If it doesn't, we steal the bus' engine!" The one-eyed zombie replied enthusiastically. One of the Wehrmacht zombies chased a tourist next to them and Agnes hid behind Michael when the blood spilled from the tourists' open chest. The rest of the crew joined them and one of the soldiers, Joachim, frowned at the archaeologist:

"You're not a soldier." He stated:

"I'm an archaeologist..." She explained. Michael smiled animatedly:

"She knew where you were!" He exclaimed. "She told Herr Standertenführer where to find you!"

"Were you only 3?" Agnes asked, examining them quickly; their... hmm... conservation state was almost as good as the other's. The Rottenführer shook his head. "What happened?"

"Dead."

"In the spot?"

"No, taken prisioners." The Rottenführer shrugged. "Lets see if it still works. Have you ever been inside a Tiger, Fräulein?"

"Not a Tiger, but... I'm not very fond of tanks. No offense." She smiled nervously. "Quite... claustrophobic."

The crew members shrugged and climbed the tank. Agnes decided to look for Sascha and Fritz, and she found them helping the soldier with the stick coming from his eye to get his stick off a dead body:

"Hi." She saluted with a smile. Sascha looked at her and smiled too:

"Look Fritz, Herzog didn't kill her of boredom!" And Fritz interrupted the rescuing operation to clap enthusiastically. "This is Dietrich and his... sticky friend, by the way..." And Sascha laughed of his own joke:

"Why do you have that stick in there?" Agnes asked Dietrich, the one Sascha said had stopped in time at the age of 5. Dietrich, finally free from the body, looked shyly at her:

"I like the stick. It's a good stick, he listens to me."

Agnes just nodded, not knowing exactly what to do. Dietrich walked away and Sascha chuckled:

"Told you..." He said, wiping the blood on his hands to his uniform. "So you survided Herzog, the Beyond Boring? That's new, teach me how to do that!"

"He's not that bad..." Agnes commented and yawned again:

"Let's tell everybody she likes him!" Fritz suggested and they both turned their backs at her. She widened her eyes and held them by the back of their uniform jackets:

"Are you mad? No you won't!" She hissed worriedly. They glanced behind. "Not those shit-eating grins... no... Come on, I thought we were comrades! Sascha, you lied to me!"

"Did you hear that, Fritz? She didn't say anything about not liking him!"

"I did hear that, Sascha! Oh look, she's blushing!" Both soldiers laughed. "Don't worry Acne, we just wanted you to wake up." Agnes let out an incoherent grumble and walked away. Or better limped; her knee decided it was time for some sharp pain, right in the place where the kneecap articulated with the femur.

Meanwhile the tank zombies had managed to make the Tiger I work and it was now gloriously parked right in the middle of the parking lot.

Herzog came out of the building, followed by some of his men that carried fire-arms and grenades. Agnes frowned:

"Are those working?" She asked one of the zombies. He positioned the rifle, aimed a dead tourist and pressed the trigger; nothing happened:

"No ammo..." He growled sadly.

The Standartenführer looked at the tank, a pleased smirk stamped on his face. He then looked around to gather his troops and noticed Agnes was limping again. He frowned and walked towards her:

"Panzer. Jetzt." (Tank. Now) He ordered. She widened her eyes:

"I can walk!"

"You are limping again; that will delay me and probably bother you."

Agnes looked from the Standartenführer to the tank. Then, by the corner of her eye, she caught Sascha and Fritz trying to contain their laughter. She let out another sigh:

"I can go outside the tank... right?" She asked hopefully. Herzog's expression softened and he nodded. Feeling relieved, she climbed to the tank, sat beside the driver's hatch and wrapped an arm around the tank gun. Herzog climbed after her, installed himself in the hatch and looked down. 2 and a half pairs of eyes were looking at him. He nodded and the tank began to move.

* * *

**Weeeeeeeeeeeeee, review?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: **thanks so much for the reviews! *manly tear again* I could never imagine people would love this story so much!

**Sascha**: They don't love your story... THEY LOVE MEEEEE! MEEE! :D

**Fritz: **And me! :3

**Author: **._.

* * *

Herzog loved the power of tanks and the fact that now he was being transported like a real commander. The valley had plenty of trees and undergrowth, but nothing that stopped the mighty Tiger I. He looked around, satisfied; his troops were running beside and after the tank, tireless, such were the benefits of not needing to breath for real and not having a beating heart. The crew was finally quiet, seemed they were competent afterall. He then looked at Agnes... well... Agnes' back; she didn't seem to bother with all the bouncing and the branches around her, her backbag was hanging on a shoulder and she was munching another cereal bar. There were some leaves on her hair and he allowed himself to smile.

Then his smile died and he frowned; he was not supposed to smile, because smiling is for fools, and he was not a fool, and damn it guts, stop making him feel warm inside!

Sascha and Fritz were right after the tank. Sascha peeked from behind the huge armoured vehicle and studied Herzog for a while:

"I think he's smiling... I can't see very well, but I'm not risking going closer and being noticed! Aw, he's not smiling anymore." He whispered to Fritz. "Stupid helmet, I can't see much with it, hold it for me for a second."

"And so?"

"Meh, whatever he was thinking about is gone..." Sascha covered his head with the helmet again. Running beside him, Fritz frowned:

"What do you think he's going to do to our little Acney?" He asked. Sascha shrugged:

"I have no idea." He then looked behind, to the Doctor, the last and slower of them all. "I hope she stays around... it's kind of... livener!" He said. A moment of silence. Then they both laughed loudly of Sascha's pun.

The sound of their laughter reached Herzog's ears; he knew it had to be Sascha and Fritz, and he also knew they had to be laughing of him or of something related to him, because that was how the world functioned. Agnes heard them too and she felt herself blush; they had to be joking about that subject again, and she munched her last bite of the cereal bar angrily, all levels of awkwardness taken to the infinite and beyond because she actually liked Herzog, now that she knew him a little. She liked him like she liked Sascha and Fritz, with the difference that Herzog would never give her a headache because of childish behaviour.

* * *

It had to be around lunch time, because her stomach was more punctual than a Swiss watch, but she thought it would be better to spare that sandwich for another time. There was a small village ahead, the few houses were now visible among the trees, and the tank came to a halt:

"Get in here, Fräulein." Herzog demanded, looking into his binoculars. Agnes looked from him to the village, and to him again. She gulped, not really wanting to get into the tank. Her knee was still aching, though... Well, it would be quick, right? Blitzkrieg and all.

With a reluctant sigh, she stood up and climbed to the turret:

"Aber schnell!" (But quick!) Herzog grumbled, disappearing into the tank. Agnes let out a suffering sigh and followed him. She had only been inside a modern tank and was a little relieved when she found out the interior of that tank wasn't so claustrophobic and that she could even sit, because with her and Herzog the crew was finally 5. Michael glanced behind and offered her a smile:

"Changed your mind?" He asked. The tank began to move. Agnes started drumming with her fingers on her legs, nervously. Herzog was looking into the periscope and from that angle Agnes had the chance to avaliate the damage that had been done to his face; seemed something had hit him, tearing off skin from his nostril, a small part of his upper lip and nearly half of his lower lip (or maybe it had actually torn off his face his whole lower lip, because the remaining half was stitched, poor man!). She wondered how and when he had gotten that, and the scar crossing his eye too, even though both wounds seemed fresh.

She looked away, to the side cap on Michael's head:

"No..." She finally answered. She looked around, but there were only zombies and machinery. Chewing her tongue seemed like a great idea to relieve stress. The gunner and Herzog exchanged posts, the Standartenführer sat right next to Agnes and he offered her a reproachful look:

"I had that habit too." He told. "Then one day I nearly bit my tongue off and understood it was a really bad habit."

Agnes stopped in the same instant and the very little that was left of Herzog's lips curved into a smile; there he was, smiling like a fool again!:

"It was during my Officers Course, I had to skydive and I was so nervous I chewed my tongue all the way down... and then bit it really hard when I hit the ground, because I was never a skilled parachutist." He then frowned. "Never did it again, won't ever do it again."

The young woman just smiled widely. She felt like sharing something too, but the tank stopped and the gunner said they were exactly in the middle of the village and that the infantry was invading the houses. Herzog opened one of the hatches and admired the show, like someone would admire the landscape from a balcony. The gunner opened the other hatch and Agnes decided it was time for some fresh air. She managed to climb out of the tank, then jumped carefully from the turret to the glacis plate and finally to the ground.

Another gore fest. She stepped aside when the tank began to move again, just for the sake of smashing a woman who had been thrown from a window. Everywhere she looked there were undead Wehrmacht or SS soldiers killing those people. Her people, by the way, because she was a local too. Agnes moved towards a dead body; that one had been stabbed, the SS troops used their daggers and the Werhmacht troops used their rifles as maces. The blood formed a small puddle around the body. Norwegian blood, spilled once more by the German enemy, German invading troops.

And Agnes grinned sadly, because she couldn't care less about those people; she wasn't very fond of the living.

Someone placed a hand on her shoulder and she nearly jumped out of her skin:

"Do you want to try?" Sascha asked. "Aim to the guts! It sucks when your weapon is stuck in the bones of the guy you're killing."

"No thanks... I just watch." She replied, turning around to face him. "Are those... hmm..." Sascha had something that resembled spaghetti in the corner of his mouth:

"Tendons? Yes!"

"I don't want to know..."

"The guy tried to strangulate me, I had to defend myself..."

"I see." And she made a face when Sascha sucked the tendons, like it was in fact spaghetti. "Do you need to eat?"

"No, but I like to chew." Fritz answered, coming from behind. "And this stuff gets stuck in my stomach and makes a funny noise when I move."

"You're going to disgust her, then she'll spend more time with Herzog the Beyond Boring than with us!" Sascha exclaimed with an exaggerated pout:

"You're disgusting her too!" The other soldier accused. Then they both looked at her and asked in unison. "How was the tank ride?"

"Claustrophobic." Agnes sighed and looked around curiously. "Why is everybody gathering the bodies?"

"Exactly, why is everybody but the two of you gathering the bodies?" Herzog asked from the top of the tank, that stopped next to them. He jumped directly from the turret to the ground and Sascha and Fritz decided it was indeed a good idea to help the others:

"Protective Mode: activated." Sascha whispered and they both giggled while walking away.

Agnes looked at the Standartenführer curiously:

"Why are they gathering the bodies?" She asked. Herzog grinned:

"I like to have... hm... «volunteers» among my troops." He explained. She just nodded and looked around; the small village had 30 inhabitants who were now all dead. The Standartenführer looked around too and let out a grunt. "Does it bother you?"

"The dead?"

"They are your people."

"I..." She hesitated; telling Sascha she didn't like the living was a confession from a weird person to another weird person, and weird people would never think each other weird... but on the other hand, telling that to Herzog, who she believed was the only 100% sane man in the company, would be weird, because he would think her weird, and she didn't want him to know she was actually (maybe) the weirdest of them all. "... guess life is unfair."

"Wise words, Fräulein." Herzog agreed, completely unaware of her little hesitation. He made a face when his eyes spotted the Doctor dragging a body; _"She needs food, and water, and warmth. You can't give her that!"_, his words echoed in Herzog's mind and he looked at Agnes again. She looked at him too, and they spent an awkward moment just staring, until the Standartenführer broke the eye-contact and cleared his throat with a gutural sound. "You should get yourself food and water."

"Wise words, Herr Standartenführer." She replied with a smile and walked away into a house. The same house where Fritz and Sascha had gone to pick up dead villagers:

"We saw everything from the window, it was a blast of feels." Sascha said when they met at the door. "So much feels I had to puke, don't go upstairs."

"Yeah, right..." Agnes did him the finger and got in the house, keeping in mind to don't touch anything, just the food she was going to take.

She went outside right on time to watch Herzog select his «volunteers», and it made her ever more curious about him than before.

* * *

This time she was sitting on the turret, next to Herzog's hatch, but facing his troops that followed the tank and having an intense gestual conversation with Sascha and Fritz that became really ridiculous when all the Nazi zombies decided to have a gestual conversation too, and now it was just a bunch of arms waving in the air. The «volunteer» troops were quiet, following obediently.

Watching Agnes by the corner of his eye, Herzog didn't really wanted to know what was going on his back. But she seemed enthusiastic and there was an occasional chuckle from her or from one of his men, so the Standartenführer decided to let them be.

Then the strangest of creatures crossed paths with Herzog's mighty Tiger I. The Standartenführer frowned, told the crew to stop the tank and raised a closed fist to stop his troops. Everything went silent, Agens turned around and Herzog tried to find out if he was facing a manly woman or an effeminate man. It was difficult to tell and he was about to use his binoculars to have a better look on the strange creature when it spoke some nonsense, but then Herzog finally understood he was facing an effeminate man.

He rose an eyebrow and tilted his head, he had three good resons to kill that peasant:

-he was standing on his way!

-he was a local.

-he was clearly an Untermensch (sub-human) and a threat to the superior race.

He sighed:

"This is why I have «volunteers»..." He told Agnes and turned around. "You!" He looked at his «volunteers». "Go."

And they went after the parasite of the Reich. But the Reich was no more, but that creature was still a parasite and Herzog thought it would be a really good idea to make a Reich of his own:

"He's running to the marshes." Agnes said. The Standartenführer shrugged:

"I know there are marshes all around, that's why I sent those." He explained. A small explosion from the marshes made Herzog roll his eyes. "I was counting on the resistance movements too, but to be honest I was hoping no one would bother me..." He looked into his binoculars to see where the strange creature was going and expected him to reveal where the other resistence members where hidding.

Some more explosions. Agnes noticed the soldiers were starting to feel nervous and she supposed they knew an explosion would kill them for real and that not even Herzog's powers could do much for them in that situation. Then, still looking into his binoculars, Herzog shouted a counterclockwise coordinate and the turret moved, slowly.

The young woman tightened her grip around the hold of the closed hatch near Herzog's, almost at the same time the tank shot the first projectile. However, much for Herzog's displeasure, the creature was still running! He shouted more coordinates and the turret moved again.

Finally, the creature joined 2 young women. Herzog grinned; now he was going to finish them! He gave a last coordinate to the tank and he was sure that this time the projectile hadn't been wasted like the previous:

"Vorwärts marsch!" He commanded and let the binoculars hang on his neck. He felt great; nothing like smashing the resistance, not losing a single soldier from his troops... and impress that young lady with his skills.

To be honest, and Herzog did like honesty, having Agnes around wasn't only good to lighten the mood among his troops but also to sooth the pain of his mortally wounded pride. Indeed, he needed to kill her as soon as possible. And he would probably hand over his personal chamber to her, because that seemed the right thing to do when a lady moves in to a place where there's only men.

The Rottenführer opened his hatch and tried to convince Agnes to go inside the tank again. Agnes said she was having an important gestual conversation with Dietrich about his sticky friend. The Rottenführer expressed his opinion on how ridiculous Dietrich looked with a stick in the place of his eye, to which Dietrich reacted with a childish and, according to Agnes (who believed the awkard level was now beyond the beyond infinite), adorable pout. A soldier behind Dietrich, Konrad, decided to defend his comrade, and the initially gestual conversation turned into an amount of growling arguments and grunts and snarls on the advantages of having a stick in the place of an eye:

"It's a pointy stick, by the way! He can kill with that stick!" Was Konrad's favourite argument.

Sascha took the opportunity to study Herzog; he could only see the Standartenführer's back, but he knew him well enough to tell how his commander was feeling just by looking at his posture, and Sascha was sure Herzog was thinking about something pleasent, and that thing had to be Agnes, who was now telling the Rottenführer about the importance of sticks in the evolution of mankind. He smiled; the last time he had seen Herzog like that it had been in December, 1940, when they were heading back to Germany to rest from glorious actions in Poland, and the Standartenführer had told him he was planning to go back to his home village for a little while.

Sascha's smile died slowly; that was when Herzog changed from the Amazing-Officer-Everybody-Wants-To-Serve to the Regular-Son-Of-A-Bitch-Officer-Everybody-Plots-Against. But now, thanks to the archaeologist, Herzog was slowly recovering from whatever happened to him, and even though he didn't show that to his troops yet, Sascha knew it. For good and bad, he knew Herzog too well. He looked around, to the happy, chatting mess that was the Einsatzgruppe and the Wehrmacht group, and smiled again; just like the old days when the Standartenführer was the Amazing-Officer. Then he noticed the Doctor trying to give his opinion about the stick and clenched his jaw; the Doctor was useful, but nobody did really like him that much, maybe because he had joined them too late, or maybe because he was just an irritating, smart aleck little man. He also didn't like Agnes. Sascha did a note to self to keep an eye on him, just in case:

"Sascha, what's your opinion on the sticky subject?" Agnes suddenly asked. Fritz started to laugh hystericaly, sounding like a desperate, gurgling, drowning man. Sascha smiled:

"I think everybody has some good pointy arguments to throw, let's just hope this won't go from sticky to beaty." And that only caused a flood of pro and con arguments on the advantage of having sticks instead of eyes:

"Achtung «punzer»!" Agnes managed to exclaim before bursting into laughter. The Rottenführer frowned:

"When you say «punzer» you're making a Wortspiel (pun) with English, aren't you?" He asked. Agnes nodded and the Rottenführer smiled excitedly. "I had that same idea years ago, but nobody understood me!" He tried to calm down a little. "Bergen, Klaus. SS-Rotenführer. I speak a little English, I learned during my service years in France."

By the corner of his eye, Herzog saw the Rottenführer take one of Agnes' hands and kiss it on the back. That was enough to stop him from daydreaming and he turned around, looking threateningly at his troops.

It took a while until they all went silent again, all carrying the same expression of a confused and scared child. He then looked at the Rottenführer:

"You should go back to your place, Rottenführer Bergen." He growled. Agnes looked from one to the other, confused and feeling like suddenly a big and grumpy cloud had covered the sun. The younger officer looked down:

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer." He mumbled. He offered Agnes a smile before disappearing into the tank.

And Agnes felt like the awkwardness was back. Herzog was looking to the rural road ahead, eyes shinning in the shadow the officer cap cast on his face, bad vibes coming from him again. She looked around; the SS and the Wehrmacht soldiers moved quietly, looking down or to the landscape around them. Only Sascha exchanged a look with her that said clearly «don't just stay there, do something!».

She moved from near Rottenführer Bergen's hatch to sit next to Herzog's, and clutched to the border of the turret nervously:

"Hein?" She called softly. A blue eye moved to look at her, and now that she was so close, that eye, so blue and intense, crossed by the scar, was quite impressing. "We didn't mean to bother you... It was my fault, I was talking to Dietrich about his stick and-"

"-the conversation got sticky, I get it." Herzog finished the sentence, looking at her. He then frowned, realizing what he had said, but his expression softened when she chuckled. "It was not your fault, it's theirs; they can't hold a civilized talk for too long.", _and can't avoid touching..._, he thought angrily. He looked to the horizon again; it was getting dark. "It's not that I don't like my men... security reasons, that's all." He explained, because he felt the need to explain himself to that young woman. His archaeologist, had he mentioned that before?

Agnes just nodded, thinking in what Sascha had told her the first time they met, and wondered if she should ask. But she didn't want Herzog to be mad at Sascha because he told her that, and she didn't know how the Nazi leader would react, maybe it was a subject he didn't want to talk about, or maybe he would tell her, just like the parachute episode. He was quiet now, but was starting to look like he wanted to talk, and she noticed his grip on the border of his hatch tightened, maybe to stop himself from gesturing and talking. The bad vibes were gone, but she could imagine a little, dark cloud floating over his head.

Seemed he was a complicated character, like the archaeological artefact found in a dubious context, and Agnes loved to solve those little mysteries of life; she was complicated too, and the illogical logic rules say that complication walks hand-in-hand with complication:

"Sascha told me you were a hero." She started. Much to her relief he laughed, but it was a sad, false laughter:

"Sascha is dumb, he doesn't know what he says. None of them knows. I can't even understand how you can understand them, but that must be some archaeologist's trick..." He replied, sighing. Agnes felt like she should defend the guys, but it was better not to argue with Herzog. It was getting cold and she zipped her jacket. "You should get inside and sleep. You didn't sleep last night." Even though that implied she would be in the company of Rottenführer Bergen... or maybe not, he would go with her. She made a face:

"I can sleep here, I'm an outdoor person." She tried:

"Believe me when I tell you don't want to freeze to death..." Herzog said and offered her a hand. She let out a suffering sigh but took it, and the littleness of her hand on his big, gloved hand amused him. He felt the faint warmth of her hand through the leather of his glove and the skin of his arm, that apparently had life of its own too, got goosebumps. Or maybe it was just his mind tricking him, because his mind was a real bastard.

He helped her to get in the tank and they sat side by side. Rottenführer Bergen didn't dare to look at them, but Michael turned around on his seat to look at Agnes disapprovingly:

"The Panzer joke, really?" He mumbled. Agnes offered him a smile and covered her legs with her backbag. She looked around and tried not to panick when Herzog stretched his arms and closed the hatch. He was right, she needed to sleep. So she closed her eyes, tried to forget she was inside a tank... and fell asleep almost instantly.

Herzog looked at her, then into the tank's periscope; there, he had provided her warmth, what was warmer than a glorious German tank?

* * *

**Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, review?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: **thanks so much for the reviews! ;_; So, so much!

* * *

By the morning the German troops reached their target. The tank stopped in the outskirts of the village and the crew left the tank to stretch their legs a bit. Herzog pretended to be focused on what he was seeing through the periscope, and when they all left he turned around and looked at Agnes; she was still sleeping, and of course he was going to wake her up because she had skipped dinner and was probably hungry and he would never allow her to sleep while he triumphed gloriously over his enemies.

So he woke her up like a true German gentleman; he placed a big hand over her small and delicate shoulder and shook her mercilessly:

"Wach auf!" (Wake up!) He commanded, and wondered if he had been a little rude. Agnes opened both eyes and looked around, utterly confused:

"Are we being attacked?" She asked, blinking her eyes really fast. Herzog chuckled:

"No, we are going to attack. And you are going to witness my glory. I will leave plenty of archaeological evidences, just like those of great battles!" He said. "And you should eat something."

Agnes said nothing, her brain was still half-asleep. Yet she opened her backbag and picked up something to eat, and took the chance to follow Herzog outside and breath properly.

The Standartenführer jumped to the ground and walked away from the tank, all of his attention on the village. Agnes, holding her sandwich between her teeth, was much more careful to reach the ground. Rottenführer Bergen wanted to offer her help, because he was a German gentleman too, but Sascha shook his head and grinned jokingly:

"Hey Acne, what were the two of you doing all alone in there?" He asked. Agnes munched a bit of her sandwich calmly:

"The same you and Fritz do when no one's looking." She replied. A general 'ooooohhhh!' was heard and the company burst into laughter. Sascha and Fritz looked at each other and their cheeks became dark blue. Fritz looked at his boots, embarassed, and Sascha narrowed his eyes and pointed a threatening index finger at Agnes:

"You don't do these jokes with Fritz, he's too innocent for that! This means war!" He exclaimed, gesturing dramatically. Rottenführer Bergen decided he wanted to help Agnes:

"Such a dubious answer!" He said. Another 'oooohhh!' was heard and Michael rolled his eye, commenting to the nearest soldier:

"Yesterday he remembered he used to try to be funny..." He explained:

"I heard that!" Rottenführer Bergen frowned. Sascha saw it was his chance to turn the game:

"He's trying to be funny to impress our little Acney, because she thinks Herzog the Beyond Boring his actually an interesting creature."

"In fact, if a stare killed, Rottenführer Bergen would have died yesterday!" Fritz added, his cheeks still a darker shade of blue:

"You're just Sascha's sidekick, shut up!" And was the Rottenführer's turn to... hm... blush. The zombies started to argue among themselves and Agnes finished her meal in peace.

Herzog eventually turned around, carrying a helpless expression because his troops, especially his Einsatzgruppe, were behaving like they were only 18 years-old soldiers, fresh from the recruit. Again. That would give Agnes a bad impression, but she seemed glad with all that fuss and the Standartenführer's expression softened as he watched her eating peacefully. _But__ afterall, _he thought with a grimace and walked towards his troops, _seems she's already used to this childish behaviour._

He stopped in front of his troops, legs apart and hands behind his back. Dietrich noticed him and tried to quietly warn his comrades, but he was still a little clumsy; if it wasn't for his family's influence and money, he wouldn't have made it to the Waffen-SS.

Slowly the company calmed down and Herzog studied them, taking a little longer to observe Rottenführer Bergen and Sascha; the first was obviously irritated and frustrated, the second was clearly satisfied. The Standartenführer tried not to smile; Sascha was indeed an exeptional creature to teach someone else their places among the company:

"Fast and efficient, shall we?" Herzog asked. Demanded. "Under my command. You," He looked at Agnes. "you'll follow and watch."

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer!" Everybody exclaimed and the troops saluted. The crew got in the tank and Herzog followed them. Agnes made her way to the rearguard and slapped Sascha's shoulder playfully:

"Achtung «punzer»!" She giggled. The blue-eyed zombie made a face:

"I think I prefer Herzog's influence on you..." He stated.

In the rearguard she found the Doctor, who looked at her like she was a freak from another planet. Agnes gave him little attention, she was used to that kind of stares. She crossed her arms and followed the zombie soldiers, secretly hoping one of the locals could manage to kill that wannabe Mengele. Then she frowned; even if that happened Herzog would revive him again, so...

The company splitted as it reached the first houses. Agnes decided to walk around randomly and went in a different direction from the column of soldiers she was following, what could possibly go wrong? Then she frowned, because all she could hear were the zombies... and no locals, no gore fest. She looked around with increased attention and decided to peek into a few houses; empty, all of them.

The village was abandoned. And that could only mean two things:

-people already knew what had happened in the museum and in the other village and had fled, terrified.

-someone knew they were coming, had evacuated the people and was hiding somewhere to finish the Nazi troops.

Agnes was a pessimist, so she chose the second option and decided to go look for Herzog and share her conclusion with him. Keeping in mind everything her brother had taught her about how to behave when you have the feeling there is a sniper, but you don't know where or if he's in fact there, she went to look for the Nazi soldiers among the houses. She moved fast and carefully, crouched, the closer she could to the wooden walls of the houses, being careful to avoid windows and suspicious corners. Then she realised there was silence, and her heart began to race in her chest; silence is not good, silence is never good!

Then she heard a growl. No, several growls. Many, many loud growls, the sound of running feet and the clash of metal. And she knew she was in troubles and removed her pocket knife from her belt, where she usually hung it. She left some wooden houses behind and found herself in some sort of lawn, where the Nazi troops were fighting... Red Army soldiers?

What had Herzog said when they had met, that he had a war to win? Was his war this thing right in front of Agnes?

The young archaeologist widened her eyes and tried to figure out if she could make it safely to where the tank (and Herzog) were standing, because she was just an archaeologist, not a soldier, and right now the safest place seemed to be behind the Standartenführer. Well, Russians and Germans were busy, so she took the chance to take a deep breath and run.

And she would have made it, if someone hadn't bumped on her and sent her flying some good meters. She fell on her shoulder and rolled several times before a wall of a house finally stopped her. She felt like her brain was still rolling inside her skull and her vision was doubled. She shook her head and blinked her eyes quickly and everything came back to normal, and she could see a huge Russian zombie running towards her. Agnes left her backbag aside, stood up and, with her pocket knife in hand, prepared to fight.

The Russian soldier had a shovel and he rose it above his head. She leaned towards him and, using the side of an arm, diverted the shovel to the side, while using her other arm to stab the Russian in the stomach. He squealed and bent forwards, letting go the shovel, and Agnes grabbed it and cracked his head open with it. She removed her knife from his stomach and was about to smile proudly because, after all those years without practising, she still remembered what she had learned! But her smile died as another Russian attacked her.

And since she was an archaeologist, she took some time to look at that.. artefact... and concluded that uniform belonged to a GRU Spetsnaz and that his (and his comrade's) preservation state was worse than the Nazis', so that meant they had been buried in lower lands, like the Panzer crew, but those lower lands surely hadn't that much permafrost. And the time she lost evaluating that surelly interesting piece out of its correct archaeological context was enough for the soldier to punch her painfully in the face, sending her again against the wall once more.

She felt her nose bridge break with an explosion of pain that brought tears to her eyes. But that somehow made her understand she had no time to look at the adversary with archaeologist's eyes, and she managed to avoid being punched again by stepping aside. The Spetsnaz opened a whole in the wooden wall and got stuck by his arm, and Agnes took the chance to try and crack his head with the shovel. However that soldier had been, still was, a Spetsnaz for some reason, he obviously wouldn't let her win so easily.

So he kicked her ribs, but she was already counting on that and, as she started to feel the pressure, she relaxed and simply stepped aside, standing next to his back, and used the shovel to break his spine and finally crack his skull open.

She turned around and managed to stab a huge hand before its fingers wrapped around her neck and defended herself while another Russian attacked her. Agnes was already tired; it had been years since the last time she had fought hand-to-hand, and back then no one had been there to hurt her, or kill her. Besides, she had never been very resistent to pain, and besides a bad knee she also had a bad shoulder and a bad ankle, and they were all bugging her in that exact moment, plus the nearly blinding pain in her nose. Finally, she managed to throw her oponent to the ground and stabbed his neck several times, severing it so much the Russian was practially decapitated.

Another soldier came, much bigger than any of the previous soldiers, and Agnes let out a suffering sigh; she was also small and not very strong, and contrary to popular belief carrying buckets of dirt and boxes of pottery didn't help much in developing strenght. The soviet soldier punched her face again, hitting her cheekbone and making her stumble over the dead bodies behind her. She fell on her back and he kicked her stomach, leaving her breathless for a while. Agnes managed to kick him in the knee, where he appeared to have been shot, and she succeeded in ruining what was still left of his knee joint and he fell to his side. She then hit his head with her heel, and if that didn't kill him would at least delay him.

She stood up, coughing, and tried to run to the tank... but the tank wasn't where it had been. Just great! So she thought about joining the Nazi troops, but that place was so chaotic that there wasn't exactly «Nazi troops», but a bunch of zombies fighting each other in complete disorganization.

Agnes lost too much time thinking... again. And when she noticed there was something moving behind her it was too late; the Russian she had kicked in the head was standing again, grabbed one of her arms and pulled it back. The young woman screamed as she felt the humerus discolate from the shoulder blade, sending a wave of pain down her arm that made her release the knife; now she would have two bad shoulders. That Russian soldier was a particularly rancorous one, because he grabbed her knife and stabbed her knee from behind. And it had to be her bad knee.

She screamed again and fell forwad, unable to move her injured arm and with the knife stuck in her knee joint. The pain was so intense that instead of crying she started to laugh nervously, her eyes wide and her vision starting to blurr; so, that was what happened to the archaeologists who decided to play Indiana Jones!, they ended up in a fight! But usually it was with someone who wanted their artefact, not with the artefact itself!

The Russian soldier grabbed the shovel she had let go in the meantime and hit her ribcage with it. Agnes felt something crack and all of a sudden breathing was extremely difficult and painful. She looked at the Russian, who had the shovel raised above his head and was about to give her the final blow, and her vision became darker, until she couldn't see anything else. She couldn't hear anymore too, and she suddenly felt cold and had the feeling she was falling into the void.

The last thing she thought about before her mind went completely blank was in a pair of intense blue eyes.

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**Weeeeeeeeeeee, review?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note:** again, thanks for the review! :'D

* * *

From the top of the Tiger I, Herzog pictured an easy victory. And after that easy victory his men could gather more loot, and with part of the loot Agnes would buy a GPR, and then he would kill her, and she would find more soldiers, and his army would be bigger, and district by district Norway would be taken and...

And...

And...?

And... was that the one-armed thief, now two-armed thief because one his arms was Herzog's? How dared he to just stay there, like a huge German tank and the elite of the Reich weren't going towards him? And who were his two subordinates, was that his army? Was that the resistance? That was pathetic, Herzog deserved something better!:

"Halt!" He shouted into the tank and raised a closed fist to stop his infantry. Michael opened the hatch near Herzog's to see what was going on. The thief began to say something, but Herzog didn't speak English. Michael called Rottenführer Bergen, who peeked from inside the tank:

"He said he hoped you didn't mind because he brought some friends to play along." Rottenführer Bergen translated. Herzog frowned, feeling both angry and humiliated; angry because that stupid thief dared to defy him in front of his men again, and humiliated because that common Rottenführer (he had to be younger than Fritz, by the way; what did he know about life?) spoke a language he didn't... and such intellectual skills would surely impress Agnes, and he didn't want that, and...

And...!

He felt like grabbing his officer cap, throw it to the ground and jump on it one, two, three, many times; was that Stavarin? Was that Stavarin and his men? How? Why? After all those years, Stavarin again? The damned Bolsheviks, the Ivans! Again! Come on, Herzog deserved better than that!:

"And he asked if isn't it bad when someone who should be dead isn't and comes back to kill you." Rottenführer Bergen translated again, actually enjoying the badly hidden horrified expression in Herzog's face; that was indeed a most unexpected, and unwelcomed, surprise... and Herzog was a serious man who didn't like surprises, he had had one and that had been enough! Victory was his, had to be his!, why making things difficult? The Standartenführer was a patient man, but that was too much! He studied the enemy troops, they were around 70. He had 100 men, German soldiers, Wehrmacht, SS, a Panzer and a few «volunteers» left. Of course he ordered his troops to attack and massacre those Bolshevik bastards!:

"Fritz, Albrecht, Wilhelm, Josef and Erdmann, stay here with me!" Sascha commanded, grabbing all of them by the back of their uniforms; Herzog wasn't reasoning, so he had to do it for him. Sascha, Fritz and Erdmann stood by one side of the tank, Albrecht, Wilhelm and Josef stood by the other. The Standartenführer didn't even notice them, too busy watching his troops and the thief's fighting. Fritz looked around, biting his lower lip softly:

"Where's Acney?" He whispered to Sascha:

"I hope she had time to hide." Sascha replied and looked around too, grimacing, and hoping that, unlike Herzog, she would manage to help herself:

"Why are we standing here?" Fritz whispered again. "I'm a soldier, not a statue!"

"Herzog is scared, he'll screw up everything." Sascha said, and noticed Stavarin coming. "These are not civilians, these are soldiers, like us. He wasn't expecting that."

"But he never did something like this before!"

"Maybe because he wasn't an arrogant, greedy bastard before!"

Herzog was completely unaware of their conversation; he was too busy watching Stavarin coming closer, killing some of his men in the meantime, and his grip around the open hatch tightened, hate and fear at the same time, because that wasn't really in his glorious plans. He couldn't just fail now, victory was so close! Stavarin was closer and Herzog looked around, jaw clenched, and noticed 6 of his men standing near the tank. Sascha was looking at him, and suddenly the Standartenführer felt tiny and miserable and definitely a commander who didn't deserve an Ordonnanz like him. He just nodded and watched those 6 men charge against Stavarin... and fail miserably...

Then something else caught his attention; police cars. He exchanged a look with Michael, who nodded, disappeared into the tank and closed his hatch. Herzog sighed, annoyed, and left the tank. Right on time to see Stavarin hit Sascha, and that only made Herzog angrier.

After killing another SS soldier, Stavarin finally noticed Herzog had left the safety of his tank; and even if he hadn't, the Russian would have found a way of getting him. Herzog snapped his neck and began to walk towards the Russian.

And the Russian walked towards him. Both of them ignored the fight and the chaos around them, too busy looking at each other, studying the opponent, thinking about how to attack. Well, at least Stavarin was thinking in how to attack Herzog; the Standartenführer was too wrathful to think clearly, and the only thing he could think about was destroying.

They were close enough now and Herzog raised his arm. Too slow, Stavarin hit him. And Herzog felt even more wrathful. He tried again, and Stavarin punched him again. And again. And again, and he lost his ballance and fell. He just hoped Agnes wasn't watching this... The Standartenführer stood up, some of his good-sense coming back to him, all of what he had learned in the Officers Course and during his career flashing before his eyes; Stavarin was a big, fat Ivan, a little bigger than him, which meant he was stronger and slower than him. Herzog had to take profit of being smaller, lighter, and consequently faster. After some failed attempts he finally managed to block one of Stavarin's attacks and punch him, and was punched in return. He gave a few steps back and hit the Russian, who hit him back. That was irritating and the good-sense left again. The Standartenführer dodged from Stavarin's fist, grabbed his arm and managed, or so he hoped, to damage the shoulder joint. The soviet leader snarled angrily.

Now, that was something! Herzog took the chance to give him a headbutt. He got one in return and stumbled back, momently lost and blind by anger. He attacked again but Stavarin blocked him and punched him several times in the stomach before throwing him against the wall of a house.

_This is beyond humiliating, what is wrong with me? I'm invencible!, _Herzog thought as he stood up, just to lower himself again so that Stavarin punched the wall instead of his face. Well, he got his face next. And again. And again.

Until Herzog couldn't take it anymore and fell on the ground, helpless, confused, too confused to think clearly, to realize what was going on. What was happening? The stupid Russian was using him like a mere punching bag and he couldn't do anything, just take it! What would Agnes think? What would his men think? They would think their leader was weak, that's it! And nobody wants a weak leader, nobody wants to be the archaeologist of a weak leader! And they would prefer Rottenführer Bergen to him, because he was a Rottenführer, young, strong and had a bloody tank! Agnes would prefer the tank rat! And only then he realized Stavarin was about to kill him with a shovel; he couldn't die, he had men and a young woman to take care of!

However, Stavarin didn't kill him because one of his soldiers stabbed him in the back. For a moment Stavarin's and Herzog's eyes met, and the soviet leader fell on his knees, slowly, and then to the ground. And Herzog found himself looking at Sascha. And Fritz was already there, handing him a pickaxe.

Herzog exhaled slowly, finally calming down, but still feeling like the most miserable officer in the world, one of those officers who doesn't deserve such good men. Now not only his pride was mortally wounded, but his morals too. The least he could do was standing up and straighten his back, to look big and mighty again. He didn't dare to look at Sascha and Fritz when he held the pickaxe and gave Stavarin the final blow.

But before he could even have a little taste of that bitter victory the thief attacked him.

Sascha and Fritz watched as their Standartenführer was taked through the wall of a house. Sascha kicked the Russian corpse angrily:

"Goddamit Herzog, what's the matter with you today? Can't you do anything right without me?" He yelled in frustration. "Fuck you and focus, focus, goddamit, you were always telling us that, you bloody, bloody boring and stupid bastard!"

"Sascha?" Fritz called. But Sascha was too busy ranting:

"He's a brilliant officer, what the fuck is wrong with him, they're just Russians, uglier and stinkier than us!"

"Sascha!" And the urgency on Fritz's voice made Sascha stop and pay him attention. "Isn't that our little Acney?" He asked, looking to the other side of the big lawn, now a battlefield. Sascha looked too and widened his eyes:

"But what is wrong with these two, today?" He yelled again and started to run, Fritz following him close. "I'm telling you Fritz, they must be in love, because people only get this stupid when they are in love!"

Sascha threw himself over the Russian soldier and they fell. Fritz kneeled next to them and stabbed the Russian in the head with his dagger:

"Freaking Ivan, he tried to kill her!" The brown-eyed zombie exclaimed like he had just witnessed the most cruel thing in the world. Then the two SS soldiers looked behind, to the young woman, and they both froze. "Sascha... she... she isn't... right?"

Slowly, Sascha crawled towards Agnes and looked at her, horrified, and only then noticed the other dead bodies around her:

"Acne?" He called, shaking her by the shoulder. Nothing happened. Fritz kneeled next to them and slapped her uninjured cheek lightly:

"Acney?" He called too. "Acney, come on... this is not funny!"

"Agnes, damn it!" Sascha cursed and removed her scarf from her neck. He let out a hiss when he first saw her tattoos, thinking the barbed wire wrapped around her neck was real, but it wasn't, and he pressed his fingers on the side of her neck. "She's alive."

"Poor thing, look at her face!"

"I doubt she's feeling anything right now..." Sascha sighed sadly and wrapped the scarf around her neck again. "They must have attacked her... I don't understand Herzog, she should have stayed in the tank!"

"She dealed with these Ivans alone." Fritz said with wonder. His comrade looked around, biting his lip nervously, and he stood up:

"I'll get Herzog, you stay here and take care of her. " He demanded and left to look for Herzog.

Sascha thought it was a brilliant idea to start in the last place where he had seen him, so he ran back to where Stavarin was and got in the house to where Herzog had been taken by the thief. Passing through the hole in the wall, Sascha only had to follow the trail of destruction and finally found Herzog standing on a car, the thief at his feet, apparently defeated. The tank stood behind him.

The SS soldier made a face; seemed Herzog had managed by himself, dealing with a weaker opponent... He crossed his arms and decided to give his Standartenführer the satisfaction of actually killing an enemy before being given the bad news about Agnes. Sascha wondered how Herzog would react, and he hoped he wouldn't let the Doctor fix her...

Then he noticed the tank's turret was moving... moving to aim at Herzog's head. Sascha let out a colourful barrage of profanity and ran the faster he could towards Herzog and threw himself against the Standartenführer right on time to save him from being shot in the head... with a tank projectile... it would be a pretty mess...

They fell on the ground and rolled a little, before Herzog pushed him away, eyes flaming with hate and mouth open to shout at Sascha. But the younger soldier didn't give him the time, he just stood up and ran towards the tank; the turret was moving again:

"JUST HIDE, YOU IDIOT!" He yelled at Herzog while climbing the tank. He heard the thief curse and scream a name, but he couldn't care less. Sascha opened one of the hatches and jumped into the tank. Just like he suspected, the crew was dead and the enemy had taken over.

It was just one, though, was injured and Sascha didn't give him the chance to attack; he threw his dagger at the enemy's head and he fell on his knees. Sascha then jiggled back and forth to burn off the adrenaline and took a chance to punch and kick the dead Rottenführer:

"He was just one and you are three, how did you let that terrible excuse of a man take over?" He roared, grabbing the dead body by the collar of the leather jacket and shaking it mercilessly. "He nearly killed Herzog, do you know what happens if someone kills Herzog? We're all gone! I don't want to go, I like it here! And you are a fucking officer, why didn't you tell Herzog that Agnes should stay in the tank, do you know what happened to her? And if she was here she'd have behaved much better than any of you, you... you... you fucking tank rats!" And he threw the Rottenführer against a seat and punched him a last time, letting out a yelp of frustration.

He then took a deep breath and left the tank. Outside Herzog had already killed the thief and, kneeling beside the dead boy, had undressed his trench coat and his uniform jacket. He then cut one of the thief's arms, rolled up his sleeve, cut off his «borrowed» arm with his SS dagger and re-attached his original arm.

All with such a calm that only made Sascha more irritated. He walked towards Herzog with large, angry strides and slapped his head when the Standartenführer was calmly dressing his jacket again. Herzog stood up and looked at him threateningly:

"Are you done? There, you got your arm, are you happy?" Sascha asked in a feral growl. Herzog frowned, confused. "Yes, I can say more than 3 words at a time, you didn't notice, did you? Of course you didn't, you were too busy-" Fast and efficient, Herzog's gloved hand covered Sascha's mouth:

"What is wrong with you?" The Standartenführer asked, truely confused; fine, it hadn't been the most brilliant of battles but... they won! "I know I owe you, I was going to thank you!" And he uncovered Sascha's mouth:

"I don't need your acknowlegment, I want to know what's going in your head! What was this, this was the most idiotic battle I've ever fought, that was not you commanding, you would never be so stupid to send the infantry first, instead of using the tank to kill some of the Ivans! I don't know if you noticed but those were not civilians, they were soldiers, and we had a lot of casualties-" Herzog's hand covered his mouth again.

The Standartenführer was nervous; not angry, he couldn't be angry anymore because he knew Sascha was beyond right. He was just humiliated and damn, he felt tired, and he was not supposed to feel tired:

"I don't know what happened, I just got furious!" He hissed. "I had to destroy them first, before they destroyed all of you! Can't you see it Sascha, all I do is to protect my troops!" He sighed, slowly, he didn't like what he was seeing in Sascha's eyes; years and years of disappointment, and if there was someone Herzog couldn't stand disappointing was Sascha. And Agnes. "And don't worry about the casualties, I will revive them. We're invencible, and today we won thanks to you!"

"-among them Agnes!" Sascha shouted, releasing from Herzog's hand. The Standartenführer widened his eyes and gaped, and Sascha swore he had never seen that expression on him before. But he was too revolted right now and jabbed Herzog's broad chest with a finger. "She should have stayed in the tank, like when we attacked the previous village! Why did you tell her to follow the company? Because you were so, but so secure this would be easy, didn't you? You were so arrogant and wanted to show off so badly to us all, including her, that you didn't even think about her safety!" He paused, watching the effect his words had on Herzog. The Standartenführer was paler. "I know you, Herr Standartenführer..." Sascha sounded both sad and exhausted. "I know you, you know that? Do you remember that? And because I know you, I thought you'd keep her safe..."

He gave a step back, and suddenly Herzog looked small and fragile. He had seen him like that once, the only time Sascha had realized Herzog was a man, not just one of the most perfect killing machines the Führer liked so much or not just the Amazing-Officer.

They stared at each other for a while, in silence, until Herzog dressed his trench coat:

"Where is she?" He asked. He was trying to keep calm. Sascha turned his back at him and walked away, the Standartenführer followed him. "Is she...?"

"No."

"Good!"

"No, she'll feel horrible when she wakes up..."

They proceeded in silence. Herzog started to feel more and more ashamed, because he had understimated Sascha. And the rest of his men. They surely thought he was a fool, or in Sascha's words, an arrogant bastard. That had never been his intention! He had only tried to protect them! And he had failed again, and had failed epically concerning Agnes.

Fritz was kneeled next to her. Dietrich and his stick had joined him. The Standartenführer felt like an iron hand was squeezing his heart and lungs, making it difficult to breath and move. But he didn't need to breath, and he couldn't feel pain, physical or emotional, or at least he shouldn't.

He stopped next to Agnes and his face adopted a painful and guilty expression. He kneeled next to her, removed one of his gloves and touched her face carefully, evaluating the damage; her face was cold, except for her nose and left cheekbone, both places bloody and swollen. He slipped a finger between her scarf and neck and felt her steady pulse; at least that! Herzog looked to the bodies around her, and shook his head sadly:

"I told her to-" He started. Sascha cut him off:

"Which she did, and she probably felt so safe around us that maybe she decided to take a different direction from the column she was following. She was attacked and if Fritz hadn't seen her, she'd be dead by now."

Herzog noticed one of her arms was in a strange angle. He took one of her hands and noticed some little, insignificant scratches from the fight. Then he noticed the blade coming out of her knee and he squeezed his eyes shut; her bad knee... He opened his eyes once more and stared at that bloody mess. He was even scared of looking out for more damage, but he needed to know. Her other leg seemed fine, so he took a deep breath and unzipped her jacket. No bloodstains, just those from the blood that was dripping from her face. He tugged up a little her sweatshirt and decided he didn't need to see more to know what happened when his eyes noticed the begining of a huge, dark and swollen hematoma over her ribcage.

The Standartenführer covered his face with the hands; he had been unable to protect his subordinates... again. He uncovered his face once more and just looked at her, hopelessly:

"The Doctor can fix her, right?" Dietrich asked, shyly. Herzog smiled bitterly and shook his head:

"Not our Doctor..." He mumbled:

"But Karl lost his leg and the Doctor fixed it with-" Dietrich tried again, until Fritz elbowed him and he shut up. Sascha looked around and noticed that the soldiers who weren't dead were now gathering their fallen comrades and looking curiously at them:

"So... what will we do with her?" He asked.

Herzog had no idea. He scratched his chin nervously; that was the perfect opportunity to kill her. In fact, that had been the plan, right? He would win, she would die. And that would only bring her advantages; no pain, her knee would never bother her again... and she would be his archaeologist. His. Forever. And his men liked her, some even liked her too much and would have to learn to like her the exact quantity they were allowed to, and she liked his men too... so everybody would be happy! That was the right choice!

However...

He looked at her face; she was so young! By the way, how old was she? He had never asked, not for education but because that hadn't really mattered... but now it mattered. She had to be something between 18 and 21. Too young, she had a whole life ahead. He was sure there was a lot of things she would like to do, a lot of places she would like to go. He was sure she had a lot of friends she would like to meet again. And her brother, the one who had been a soldier, she seemed to like him very much, it would be a shame if they didn't meet again.

And if he killed her, would she want to go with him? Would she want to spend the Eternity in a cold cave? And wouldn't she get bored of finding only soldiers, wouldn't she miss finding something Viking-related or those little stones archaeologists were so fascinated about?

Would she hate him, like his men surely did, for being so selfish and not let her go? He glanced at Sascha. And Fritz. And Dietrich. And over his shoulder, to his other men. Herzog looked at her again, lowered his head and laughed sadly; he couldn't be that selfish again. He couldn't make things worse.

So the Standartenführer stood up and walked away:

"What about her?" Sascha, Fritz and Dietrich asked in unison, with disbelief. Herzog stoped and turned around:

"She stays." He answered. "We can't take her with us, she needs medical care. Real medical care. I can't give her that."

"But... she's one of us!" Sascha exclaimed, eyes so wide they seemed about to jump off. "I... I thought she was part of the company!"

"And she is." Herzog assured and turned his back again. He felt like punching something and hoped Rottenführer Bergen was dead:

"You'll leave her like this, really?" Sascha was about to yell again:

"Someone will find her." The Standartenführer said. He really hoped so... "Gather the dead, we have to leave."

Dietrich looked at Fritz, who looked at Sascha, who looked at Agnes. With a whimper, the three of them began to walk away:

"I'm sorry, Acney! He's just stupid today, more than the usual!" Sascha whispered, glancing at her a last time.

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Pain; the bloody pain was everywhere. It was cold too, but the pain was what really bothered her. She opened her eyes, slowly, feeling dizzy and with a throbbing head. It was getting dark. And there was this stench in the air, a stench of death.

Slowly, the memories from the recent events filled her mind and she groaned tiredly. It was better not to move:

"Herr Standartenführer?" She called, and thought about moving her head to look around. Her neck was sore and doing that made her feel sick. She squeezed her eyes shut. "Herr Standartenführer?... Sascha?... Fritz?... Dietrich? Come on, Dietrich's stick?... Klaus?... Michael?" She took a deep breath and tried not to panick, because panick is never good. "Hein? Hein, are you there?"

But no one answered. She panicked and tried to move, something that was really a bad idea; what if they were dead? What if there were more Russian zombies? What if the Russian zombies had «volunteers» too?

She heard steps and froze, thinking if she should pretend to be dead but at the same time hoping it was Herzog:

"Hello?" A man asked, peeking from the corner of the nearest house. "Hello?"

"Over here!" Agnes called. The man trotted to her; he was a policeman. She hoped he wouldn't notice her disapponted face. He kneeled next to her and pointed his flashlight to her:

"Oh my God, what happened to you?" He then looked behind. "I found a surviver! Call an ambulance, quick!"

"What happened?" Agnes asked as more policemen surrounded her. One of them held her hand and patted it in a friendly way:

"Don't worry, you're safe now! The ambulance is coming!" He assured. Agnes couldn't care less about the ambulance:

"What happened?" She tried again:

"No no miss, we ask that! One of the policemen said with a smile. The young archaeologist felt like crying, frustrated and sore:

"I... I was attacked... by those." She said, using her good arm to signal the dead soviet zombies. "I... I'm an archaeologist... I was working near the mountains, but the job was done, I still had a couple of days and decided to make a little tourism..."

"See, I told you!" One of the policemen told his colleagues. "I told you there were zombies!"

"Russian zombies..." Agnes agreed; not Nazis, they were innocent this time! Completely innocent...

"They must be responsible for the massacre in the museum and in a little village nearby. You are very lucky, miss!" Another policeman exclaimed.

_Yeah..._, Agnes thought bitterly. So, they were gone. And had left her behind. Herzog had left her behind.

She was carefully put into the ambulance and taken to the hospital. Everybody said she was lucky and had to be very happy for escaping alive. But she felt otherwise; the only people she had actually enjoyed being with had abanoned her, there were no reasons to celebrate.

_I wish I was dead._, she thought before being anesthetized, because she needed some serious surgeries.

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**Weeeeeee, review?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note:** I'd like to- :)

**Sascha: **PEOPLE LOVE ME AND MY FRITZ! \ò3ó/

**Fritz: **SO MUCH LOVE AFTER DEATH! \\*u*/

**Auhtor: **-thank you for the revi- ._.

**Sascha: **MORE FRITZ TO THE PEOPLE! HEIL PEOPLE! :D

**Fritz: **MORE SASCHA TO THE PEOPLE! SIEG FANS! :D

**Author: **I quit...

* * *

The journey back to the cave was silent. Herzog went on foot, way ahead of his troops, walking with his hands behind his back and his head low. Since the Standartenführer didn't say a word about the Panzer, the tank crew thought he would want to keep the armoured vehicle, and so they decided to hide the tank between two huge rocks halfway up the mountain and covered it with snow.

When the Nazi zombies reached the cave the sky was darkening and it was starting to snow. Herzog went straight to his little chamber and the rest of the troops went to theirs, no one talking to each other. Only the Doctor seemed to be in a really good mood.

Sascha stood outside, looking at his comrades getting in the dark and cold cave but not following. Fritz stood by his side, and when the last soldier vanished in the darkness, he asked:

"Shall we?"

"You go, I don't feel like having company." Sascha mumbled and started to walk away from the cave. Fritz trotted after him. "I'm serious, leave me alone!"

"No."

"Don't make me make you turn around..." The blue-eyed soldier threatened, stopping in front of Fritz. The smaller zombie didn't even flinch and they just stared at each other for a while, angry blue eyes on comprehensive brown ones. Then Sascha began to move again and Fritz followed him.

They walked down the mountain in silence. The snow was still falling, swirling happily in the wind around the two dead soldiers. A few meters ahead, in a place where the mountain did a small upland, was a bunch of leafless trees around a small hole in the ground. Sascha kicked some snow out of the hole and sat, legs and arms crossed. Fritz managed to sit beside him, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his chin on the top of his knees. Some more minutes gone by and the snow started to pile on their helmets and shoulders:

"What if she died in the meantime?" Sascha mumbled, looking at his hands inside what was left of his gloves; three fingers missing in the right glove and two in the left. "How could have he just leave her there? What if no one found her?"

"Maybe he didn't want to risk having her dying on the way..." Fritz said:

"Exactly, why didn't he just kill her? Can you imagine how painful it will be recovering that knee? And how will she feel, if she's still alive, when she finds out we're gone?"

"You said in the begining he wouldn't kill her."

"I know, but he seemed to like her so much I thought he'd do that just to keep her close!"

"Maybe he likes her too much to do that..." Fritz shrugged. "I wouldn't mind having her around the whole time... but I don't know if she'd like. And having someone alive around us... I don't know, it feels good. Like we aren't actually monsters."

Sascha removed his helmet and placed it in front of his legs; he still had all of his hair, light blonde, and his hair was still a disheveled mohawk, no matter how hard Fritz tried to domesticate it whenever Sascha hadn't his helmet on. His blue eyes followed the dancing snow flakes for a while, until he bent forwards and lay on his side, leaning against Fritz. The brown-eyed soldier stretched his legs the maximum the small hole allowed him to, and now Sascha was laid on his legs:

"I mean, I didn't have a chance and you brought me all the way up there! Do you know you have much more probabilities of surviving a stab in the knee and a broken nose than a shot in your throat?" Sascha snarled angrily:

"Herzog helped to bring you..."

"So, why did we leave Agnes behind? It's unfair, I should have brought her anyway, fuck you Herzog!" And to express himself better Sascha punched the ground. Fritz sighed patiently and shook the snow off Sascha's hair:

"Maybe he saw another injury we didn't and thought it would be dangerous to move her."

"I thought you were on my side!" Sascha cried, aggrieved. "And who told you to come, I told you to turn around and get in the bloody cave!"

"I'm not a child, I do what I want!"

"You're younger than me!"

"Two years, big deal!" And Fritz stuffed a handful of snow into Sascha's mouth. The blue-eyed zombie coughed angrily, spitting bloodstained snow to the ground. Fritz looked at it for a while, listening to Sascha curse, then he looked at his comrade and tried once more to comb the rebel blonde hair with his fingers. "And I'm always on your side, just in case you didn't notice."

"Of course I did..." The other soldier snarled, raising his hand to touch the bullet hole in Fritz's chest. "Take that helmet off, you look like a turtle. Hey, did I tell you about that one time when I was a kid and went to the zoo with my parents-"

"-and the goddamned turtle bit you, yes." Fritz smiled and placed his helmet near Sascha's. "So, we'll just stay here?"

"Yes, I need to cool down and Herzog needs to cool down before I have a mighty talk with him. Stupid bastard..." The blue-eyed zombie grumbled as his hand crawled up Fritz's neck to try to grab a handful of hair, just for the sake of it. Fritz still had all of his hair too, impeccably shaved on the sides of the head and even more impeccably combed to one side on the top of the head. "You'll never quit the Hitlerjugend haircut, will you?"

"I like it, it has been with me since I was 10."

"Suits you." And Sascha grinned, messing the once impeccably combed hair. He let his hand fall on his stomach and just watched as Fritz solved the mess he had done. "Do you think she's coming back?"

"I guess so." Even though Fritz was as unsure as Sascha, he knew he had to be the confident one for a while:

"Herzog wasn't that much of a bastard when she was around." And the blue-eyed zombie smiled, sadly. "I hoped he was recovering from whatever happened to him. The bastard never told me..." He added bitterly, closing his eyes. They stayed in silence for a while and the snow started to fall violently from the dark sky above them.

At first Fritz thought it was the wind, until he finally noticed it was Sascha humming contently. He stopped stirring Sascha's hair and the blue-eyed soldier stopped humming:

"So, you didn't want me to come along." He said with a smile:

"Shut up and keep doing that." Sascha replied.

* * *

Herzog sat on his field bed and removed the officer cap from his head, leaving it next to him. He then hid his face on his hands; he felt tired, and he was not supposed to feel tired... no, he felt exhausted! And old, and empty, and there was this little voice inside his head screaming at the top of its lungs that he had wasted his only chance to redeem himself at the eyes of his men... and have someone by his side, someone he could talk to, have intelligent conversations with; Agnes surely knew something about art, and music, and literature.

However, there was also this other voice in the back of his mind telling him to just stop thinking about that and behave like a proper officer, a proper German, a proper leader of the elite. He was too powerful and important to be worried about such trifles like a woman and the opinion of his troops; that was past, it was over. He had things to do, he couldn't just be like that. Feel. He was dead, he shouldn't feel, it was just the little traitor that was mind, tricking him again with impossible 'ifs'.

Sascha would hate him even more than before. And Fritz. And Dietrich. And Rottenführer Bergen. What if they all rebelled against him and chose Rottenführer Bergen as their new leader? What if they killed him? Herzog grinned sadly before this option; at least on that point he was a very democratic man... he could fall, but everyone would fall with him... Or maybe that wasn't democracy and fairness, but just his selfishness again. His unability of letting go the ones he cared about.

He wrapped his arms around himself and lay down, eyes lost and seeing things only he could. And he didn't notice the time go by, and he didn't hear his troops, and he didn't even notice Sascha checking on him everyday.

He felt dead. Just because he had spared a life.

* * *

When Agnes woke up she was alone in a hospital room. She didn't like hospitals. There was a small bag of serum connected to her hand and she had a protective mask because of her broken nose.

A nurse came in to check her few hours later and smiled when she noticed Agnes was awaken:

"How do you feel?" She asked, and the archaeologist felt like telling her to go to a beautiful place where the sun didn't shine:

"Great..." Agnes replied and faked a smile. The nurse noted something in her note pad:

"There is a policeman outside who'd like to speak to you." She informed. Agnes frowned:

"Sure..." And she watched as the nurse walked out of the room and a policeman came in. It was the same policeman who had found her and he had a big idiotic smile. Agnes wanted to leave. Now. He pulled a chair close to her bed and sat:

"Feeling better?" He asked. Another imbecile...:

"I've never been this good before." Agnes answered. He just nodded, still smiling:

"I need to ask you a few things, is that ok?"

"Go ahead." And he removed a small note pad and a pen from a pocket of his jacket:

"I need your full name."

"Agnes Hummel."

"And, as I recall, you are an archaeologist and you were working nearby, right?"

"Exactly." _What a creep!,_ she thought:

"Tell me, Miss Hummel;" And Agnes felt a little twinge in her heart and thought about Herzog calling her 'Fräulein'. "did you know that just a few days ago a group of medical students was brutally murdered in that same area?"

"Really?" And she widened her eyes, because she really didn't know about that. "Do... do you know who did it?"

"One of the students. He's dead now..." The policeman sighed, writing. "And did you know about a massacre in the local museum, a few days ago too?"

"I heard of it." Agnes answered innocently:

"But still you remained in the area."

"I'm a local, where should I go? Besides, it's that kind of thing you think will never happen to you. And do you know when do I get a little time for some tourism?'" She replied dryly. The young policeman raised his hands:

"Ok, ok. Now, can you please tell me how did the attack began?"

"When I arrived I thought everything was too quiet, and when I was about to leave those... things... attacked me." And she wondered if the police had seen the marks in the ground left by the tank. "Where those men in a mask?"

"Uh... it's the only logical explanation... The bodies are still being examined, though..." The policeman scratched his head. "Did you see a tank?"

"Hell no, did they have one?"

"Some of my colleagues saw a tank and the tank of the local museum was stolen, but we found nothing." And Agnes hoped he didn't notice her sighing, relieved. "So, you were attacked. And?"

"And before the inability of your colleagues to help me, by the way I didn't see them there, I had to manage by myself... and here I am!" She exclaimed with a yellow smile. "If that one" And she pointed her injured knee, under the blanket. "disables me from working, I'm going to take this to the court."

The policeman seemed utterly distressed:

"I... I'm sorry Miss, I promise we'll do whatever we can to find out who's behind this!" He stood up and tried to smile again. "Thank you for your time, I wish you the best recoveries!"

"You better do, I need to have a serious talk with someone..." She mumbled, mostly to herself; of course she knew who was behind that, and she bet she knew who had killed the students.

She just didn't understand why didn't they tell her. Why didn't Herzog tell her. She was part of the company, right? His archaeologist and all... Comrades, Sascha said. Comrades don't hide things from each other, do they? Her brother didn't to that to his comrades, and they didn't do that him.

Agnes facepalmed and let out a suffering grumble; yeah, she was so messed up to the point of believing a dead SS-Standartenführer is a honest man and a dead SS Einsatzgruppe are good and friendly people. Or maybe they're actually good people and she's so weird she scared them and they decided to don't trust her. Or maybe the Einsatzgruppe is perfectly fine with her and the Standartenführer just wanted her archaeological services, and therefore didn't even bother in telling her "Fräulein Agnes, I already sent my men killing some students, but I need more men to kill more people.". Or maybe everybody was awesome and the Standartenführer didn't want to scare her by telling her details of their gory life, or death, or whatever was that. Or maybe she was just so messed up that she had allowed herself to think she had finally found a place where she wanted to be, with people she wanted to be with, and people who wanted her to be around.

She shook her head and felt a sharp pain on her side, where her ribcage had been broken. She let out a hiss and went quiet. And now that she had noticed her ribcage, her shoulder was starting to ache a little too. And her nose. And her cheekbone. And holy crap, her knee was quite a sadisic bastard!

Agnes looked around, sadly; alone in a hospital room. For how long had she been there? When was she allowed to leave? And what would she do next, just keep going on with life like a dead blue-eyed Standartenführer hadn't shown up asking for her help and seeming curious about the runestone she had been working on? Should she go back to them and ask what to do next?

The nurse came back with a doctor who checked her quickly and told her that her shoulder was back in place, that the surgery to fix her nose had been a success, that the surgery to fix her 10 broken ribs had been perfect and that, unfortunately and due to an old lesion, her knee joint had to be fixed with screws:

"If had been only for the stab, you wouldn't need the screws, or at least wouldn't need them for the rest of the life." The doctor explained before her horrified expression:

"Wait, for the rest of my life...?" Agnes repeated with a weak voice. The doctor nodded. "I'm an archaologist... I... I sometimes spend hours and hours walking, or kneeled, or crouched..."

"I'm sorry... but you can't overstrain your knee like that from now on." The doctor said sadly. "You'll need to do at least two months of physiotherapy."

"Two months..." Agnes wished the ground would swallow her. "How long will I stay here?"

"A month."

"Oh my..." She sighed and hid under the blankets; a month! She couldn't stay there for a month; she couldn't stop for five minutes, how would she stay there for a month and not die of boredom? And her work, the company she worked for was surely going to fire her! And what about Herzog, what if the authorities found him and killed him? She peeked from under the blanket:

"What if I don't want to stay?" And both the doctor and the nurse made a face:

"Well, your knee will never fully recover and you might need a cane, or another surgery, or you might have your leg amputated for impotence of the limb."

"Sounds good to me. Where are my clothes?" Because... what did she have to lose? The thing she loved doing the most, archaeology and field work, were gone. At least in the world of the living.

* * *

**Weeee, review?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note: **thanks so much for reviews! :'D

* * *

Agnes left the hospital the next day with the help of a pair of crutches and, because she didn't want to go home in public transports and because she thought she deserved to feel all that pain for being so stupid to the point of letting herself like a bunch of dead men... she went on foot.

It took her a gloriously painful hour to cross the whole town and reach her apartment block, then she could use the lift to go to the 2nd floor, where she lived. The first thing she did when got home was phoning to a towing company to go fetch her jeep and the owners of the house she had rented to ask them nicely if they could bring the rest of her things, because she had been a poor victim and the vitorious only surviver of those horrible psychos who had massacred all those people in the previous days.

Then she sat on one of her big puffs and cried, first because she wanted a nice and warm bath but she couldn't have one yet because of the stitches and the mask on her face, and second... she was tired of being strong... but so, so tired! She wished she had someone to be strong for her, at least for a while, and tell her everything would be fine, that she could drop the mask and wouldn't be judged. But she had no one.

The next day she had her jeep back. And two days later the rest of her things, including her laptop. Agnes decided she had wasted too much time crying over herself and wrote a pretty e-mail to the company she worked for, telling them about her disabling injury and saying she would send a copy of the medical exams as soon as she received them, and that she was very sorry but she was resigning. Then she sent an e-mail to the director of the unchancy local museum with her CV and spent the rest of the day looking for cheap houses near the mountain.

On the following day the company answered her e-mail, saying they were very sorry and that her wage was already in her bank account, together with a few bonus, because charity is a pretty thing, and that were was no need to send a copy of the medical exams. And Agnes also got an answer from the director of the local museum, who wanted to hire her right away, because after what had happened nobody wanted to work there and the museum couldn't be closed. She then told him about her injuries and that she would need at least two months to recover a little and move in. The director should be really desperate, because he didn't mind waiting.

So Agnes spent the rest of the week looking for the perfect little house, that she eventually found, and she made a note to self to thank Herzog and his men for scaring everybody so much that now every house rent in that zone was ridiculously low. _That_, she thought bitterly as she e-mailed the person who was selling the house, _if I ever see them again..._

The last step for absolute victory was finally managing to have a bath, and she hoped that the yellow thingy around the stitches in her ribcage and knee was nothing a cotton ball with oxigenated water couldn't take care of.

It had been a week and a half since she had left the hospital. With all of her courage, loud music and the pair of crutches, she overcame the intense pain she felt every time she moved a little and boxed all her things. It wasn't much, though; two huge puffs, an inflatable mattress, some pillows and sheets and blankets, 4 duffel bags of clothes, a few pairs of boots because boots are never too much, a little box of nail polish because nail polish is never too much, her laptop, phone and MP3 player stuffed in her backbag, a small ironing table and its iron and all her many, many books and magazines stored in big boxes or bags. All of that carefully placed into her Land Rover Defender with the help of an old neighbour who was more than happy to get rid of Agnes' music.

And ignoring the horrible pain in her knee, Agnes drove during the whole day from her old house to her new one, in the base of the moutains.

* * *

When Sascha and Fritz returned to the cave, by the morning, everybody was still sleeping, or just staring into nothing. The Doctor was sitting on his little corner, humming happily, and Sascha felt like killing him, and then give him to Herzog just to have the pleasure of killing him again:

"You go tell everybody to act normally, I'll talk to Herzog." Sascha told Fritz as they reached the bifurcation for the two separate hollows. The brown-eyed zombie nodded and the blue-eyed one got in Herzog's little chamber.

The Standartenführer was lying on his side, eyes lost and shineless. Sascha crouched next to him and made a face:

"So, now you'll just stay there?" He asked. No answer. "And pretend I'm not here? You can't do that to me, you know that." But again no answer. Sascha sighed. "Herr Standartenfüüüüühreeeeeer..." He called patiently. Nothing. Sascha stood up and grimaced. "I'll come back again, you're not getting out of this that easily!"

Joining Fritz, Sascha found out his comrade was being completely ignored by everybody. Well, he couldn't blame the others... he wouldn't be scared of or impressed by Fritz, either... although the brown-eyed soldier was quite something with a machine-gun in hands:

"Come on, let us all go outside and pretend nothing happened." Sascha demanded, standing behind Fritz. Slowly and with a lot of grunts and snarls, the others began to move. Rottenführer Bergen stood up:

"Wait a minute!" He exclaimed. "Where is Herr Standartenführer?"

"Beauty-sleep, and you don't want to wake him up." Sascha replied and crossed his arms. He didn't like that Rottenführer. Well, Rotenführer Bergen didn't like Sascha and crossed his arms too:

"Du bist nur ein Soldat. Du kannst keine Befehle geben." (You're just a private. You can't give orders.) He said with the most logical arguments. All the other zombies sat around them like they were the most interesting show they've ever seen. Sascha offered the Rottenführer his best sardonic smile, showing his bloodstained teeth:

"It happens, Herr Rottenführer, that I'm Standartenführer Herzog's Ordonnanz and I've been with this Einsatzgruppe since 1938, when we first went to the Sudetenland. Where were you back then, playing drums in the Hitlerjugend?" A general 'ooohhh!' was heard and the troops looked at the Rottenführer, waiting for his answer. His cheeks had a darker tonality. "I've been his Ordonnanz since that time, too. And there were never other officers with us, he doesn't like when other officers tell his men what to do. Which means I'm in charge when he's not. And if I say we are going outside and keep an eye in our mountain, so we are going outside and keep an eye in our fucking moutain!"

The Einsatzgruppe and the SS and Wehrmacht soldiers that had joined the company cheered, mostly to annoy the Rottenführer. Fritz decided to fan the flames:

"You don't need to be jealous, you have Wittmann* and Peiper* to command!" He said and everybody laughed. Including Michael and Joachim. Rottenführer Bergen turned his back at them and went to a little corner of the cave, where he sat facing the wall. His tank crew ended up joining him as everyone else made their way outside, just for the sake of their comradeship.

However, a week and a half gone by and Herzog was still like that, lying on his side, eyes lost and shineless. Sascha started to freak out and there was a day that he shook Herzog by the shoulder and poked him several times on the neck, but the Standartenführer didn't move.

So his ever faithful Ordonnanz assembled the troops to discuss an emergency plan previously traced by him:

"I propose we kick him out and only let him in when he brings our little Acney again." He said solemnly:

"Are you trying to take over?" Rottenführer Bergen asked, but Michael covered his mouth with his hand, shaking his head. Sascha ignored him:

"I agree with Herr Rottenführer! You are trying to take over and it's unnaceptable that you want to bring that local back! Look what she did to our leader!" The Doctor exclaimed:

"I say we should kick Herzog and the Doctor out and leave Bergen because Michael and Joachim are good people." Fritz said. "By the way Dietrich, the Doctor said your stick is stupid and useless. And Konrad, he said you're stupid and useless too, because you support Dietrich's stick." Dietrich pouted and Konrad narrowed his eyes.

And it was with great joy (especially for Dietrich and Konrad) that the Nazi troops tied the Doctor to a nearby rock with some guts. And in the meantime, Sascha and Fritz went to Herzog's little chamber and stopped next to the field bed:

"You grab his ankles, I grab his wrists." Sascha said and held Herzog's officer cap under his arm. They did as Sascha said and Fritz made a face:

"Holy shit, he's heavy!"

"90kg of muscle." Sascha said. Only when they left the chamber Herzog noticed what was going on. He widened his eyes, looked around, and started to wriggle:

"ABER WAS IST LOS, MEINE IDIOTEN?" (But what's happening, my idiots?) He yelled. "SASCHA!"

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer! You'll thank us later!" Sascha assured him. They reached the entrance of the cave and Herzog noted the Doctor tied to a rock and grew paler; his men were actually rebelling! And Bergen was among them, the sneaky bastard!

But before he could say anything, Sascha and Fritz threw him to the snow. His officer cap landed next to him:

"And only come back with Agnes, are we understood?" Sascha asked and the rest of the troops came to stand behind him.

Lying on the ground, having to look up at his men, Herzog felt even more miserable than what he was already feeling. He didn't even understood what Sascha said. That was it, his men didn't want him anymore... but what hurt the most was that Sascha had done that to him. Sascha, his right arm! Or his once right arm... the one he had trusted the most.

He grabbed his officer cap and left, head low. What else could he do? Nothing, they would kill him if he tried something, and even though he was strong and all of that, they were more... they'd win. And really, was he that strong, that powerful? Didn't look like when Stavarin was using him like a punching bag. So he decided to leave, because maybe his men liked to be in this world, and if they wanted to he wasn't going to stop them.

But that did hurt. And why did all of a sudden his legs feel weak? He shook his head and nearly lost his balance; _Pull yourself together!_, he thought, frowning, wandering down the mountain. He didn't even know where to go. He felt like screaming and lay on the snow, maybe a raven would find him and think he was at least a worthy meal. While he walked, songs like «Ich hatt'einen Kameraden»**, «Sieg Heil Viktoria»** and «Wenn alle untreu werden»** echoed in his mind. And damn, that was hurting so much the Standartenführer felt his eyes sting, and he wouldn't have been surprised if he had started crying.

The sun was setting when Herzog realized he wasn't walking on snow anymore. That was forest soil, and a few meters ahead there were houses. And suddenly his legs didn't feel weak anymore and he walked faster, looking for something. Which he found; it was in a different place, but was there nonetheless!

To start with, that jeep screamed archaeology. And second, the day he had thought about using his dagger to open Agnes' door, he had noticed the jeep, because it resembled him a jeep he had driven once. So, if the jeep was there, Agnes had to be too. It was basic logic. And Herzog found himself knocking at the door of the house like his life depended on that. But he didn't exactly have a life, but he couldn't care less about that.

However, he stopped and stood still, looking with wide eyes at the door; what if Agnes wasn't really there? She had been injured, she had surely been taken to a hospital and there wasn't anything like that in that place. Maybe she was still at the hospital. Or maybe that wasn't even her jeep parked next to that house, maybe it was just someone who had a jeep like hers, but wasn't her.

The Standartenführer was about to turn around and run away when the door was open.

Agnes opened it.

And they stared at each other, Agnes frowning and Herzog with big, wide open blue eyes, and he couldn't help but try to retract his neck into the collar of his uniform, like a turtle, because Agnes didn't look friendly. Or maybe it was just her swollen and yellowish face that was distorting the picture. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, slowly:

"Herr Standartenführer!" She exclaimed, surprised, and she was in fact surprised; he was the last person she expected to be knocking at her door! To be honest, she had hoped it was Sascha and Fritz, because knocking like that totally sounded like something Sascha and Fritz would do to annoy her.

But no, it was Herzog. And she could tell something was very wrong with him. Was he actually trying to hide? And why was he looking at her like that, like... like her apparition had been a miracle. He looked tense. And nervous. Too nervous. Scared, even.

Agnes let out a sigh, opened the door completely and stepped aside, putting her weight on her healthy leg:

"Just... don't stand there, come in." She said. And with one big stride he was already in her house, and she locked the door after him. They looked at each other again and Herzog felt himself blush and trying to look away, but apparently even his eyes had life of their own, because they didn't look away from Agnes; she had a large t-shirt and some really short shorts, too short for any respectable young lady, and socks. Her hair was falling loose over her shoulders. She looked smaller, and way too fragile. He noticed the tattoos she had told him about and winced a little, wondering if she ever had barbed wire wrapped around her and knew how it hurted. But what caught Herzog's attention was the white bandage on her injured knee, half-hidden in an elastic black bandage. He frowned:

"How... how are you?" Herzog asked, truely concerned. She smiled sadly:

"I'm fine... got my nose broken, but a surgery solved that. Got hit in the cheekbone, but only that. Got a dislocated shoulder, but that's back in place. Got 10 broken ribs, the surgery fixed those." She sighed. "My knee... had a surgery too, now I have some little screws to hold the joint in place. I can't do any field work anymore."

Herzog squeezed his eyes shut and hid his face on his hands, leaning heavily against the wall behind him; he had ruined her life too, just like he had ruined the life of his soldiers. He started to shake lightly.

Agnes frowned; no, the Standartenführer was not okay. She took a deep breath and looked down, until she sighed and took a painful step towards Herzog:

"Hein..." She called. A blue eye peeked from behind a cage of gloved fingers. "You... you look strange. Go take a bath to relax a little and then tell me what happened."

Herzog uncovered his face and was about to explain her that dead men don't bathe... because they're dead... But the look on her face left no room for arguments. He nodded, slowly, and allowed her to help him undress the heavy trench coat and hang it together with his officer cap in the coat hanger; they were in a small hall, where she hung her jackets and left her boots and the pair of crutches, because she refused to walk around in the house with them. He left his boots there too, because he was an educated man, and followed her into the house. She could barely walk, but Herzog wasn't sure if he should do something about it... if she wanted his help or if she would just pull away.

It was a small house with only the ground floor. The living room wasn't that big, even though it didn't have any furniture; just the two big puffs and Agnes' boxes and bags spread all over the floor. The kitchen was very small too, with a laudry area and a full length window. There was a closed door that Herzog presumed belonging to Agnes' bedroom and another one, at the end of the living room, that she opened to reveal a small bathroom:

"Excuse the mess, I got here yesterday night. Now, just get in there and take a bath, I'm sure my brother's clothes will fit you." She said; her brother had been a big man too:

"What did your brother say about your injuries? And about you living alone like this?" Herzog asked, more than worried with the irresponsability of Agnes' elder brother. She gave him another sad smile:

"My brother died when I was 10... There isn't much he can say about me, now." She replied. The Standartenführer wished the ground could swallow him right then. She shrugged, noticing his embarassment and discomfort. "Nevermind. It's past."

Herzog felt like the most horrible creature in the world, mumbled an apology and got in the bathroom, closing the door after him. He then closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think clearly. It all seemed so surreal...

Undressing seemed the most logical thing to do before a bath. Glad with such a brilliant idea, Herzog slowly started to undress, and that only made him more uncomfortable; one thing was being in a war and having to take a bath with his men around... other thing was being dead and being told by a young lady to take a bath. And there was only he and the young lady around. And he had just ruined her life. She certainly hated him right now.

Herzog piled neatly his clothes on the floor and gave a few shy steps to the shower cabin. Now, what the heck was that? He had never seen such a thing, but apparently that worked with piped water, just like the shower rooms of the barracks in Berlin, where he had lived. Oh, the wonders of progress; it should be good to live in a world where people didn't have to heat up water in a giant pot to fill a bathtub or didn't have to queue in front a tank, waiting for someone to empty a bucket of cold water down their heads. He got in and closed the cabin door. Now, that thing had two taps, one with a blue ball and another with a red ball.

The Standartenführer growled at the red ball, because red reminded him of Communism, that reminded him of Stavarin... so he opted for the blue ball. He let out a sigh as he felt the cold water starting to pour on his head. He deserved that... he did deserve that...:

"I forgot to tell you the tap with the red ball is for the hot water." Said Agnes from the other side of the cabin door. It was an opaque door, still Herzog panicked and blushed like he had never panicked and blushed before and looked around for something to cover himself... but there was nothing. "And you should really use the soap, you stink."

"What are you doing here?" Herzog growled sadly and concluded his best option was turn around to face the wall. He heard her chuckle:

"I can't see you, relax... I'm just leaving clothes and a towel." And she left. Herzog rested his forehead against the wall; that was too much for a day... first his soldiers kicked him out, and Agnes had just stood on the same place than he... while he was naked. That was too much for any decent man.

Maybe the hot water wasn't such a bad idea...

He allowed himself to relax a little as the hot water ran down his body. Maybe it was a little too hot, but he couldn't exactly feel the temperature; he didn't have that sensibility anymore. He crossed his arms, looking at the scars on them. Especially the scar that marked the place where his arm had been cut and then attached again. Herzog started to shake again for no reson and he let out a low howl, squeezing his eyes shut.

What did Sascha say? Come back with Agnes. Good, he could go back, he had found her! And thanks to the little bastard, who had made him move his sorry arse and go look for her. Well, he hadn't exactly looked for her but... nevermind; this was his chance to fix things with Agnes and his troops. Especially with Sascha. Herzog opened his eyes again and looked at the steam dancing around him, from the contrast of the hot water against his freezing body.

Agnes was now his priority. He had a lot to tell her and a lot to ask her. He used to do that with his men, during the war; he never said much (an exception for Sascha) but they talked, and that was why they were so close. What was he thinking about when he went for Agnes?, maybe he had actually became a greedy and arrogant bastard afterall!

Herzog was determined to fix that, and he was going to start by using the soap.

* * *

*Michael Wittmann and Joachim Peiper were commanders in SS-Totenkopf Panzer divisions, two of the best tank aces from the war. Fritz is making a banter because the tank crew guys are Michael, Joachim and poor Rottenführer Bergen.

**(The Good Comrade, Hail Victory, When All Become Unfaithful We Remain Loyal) are SS marching songs (not the first, the first one was already sang during WWI) that will make you cry your eyes out.

**Weeeeeeeeee, review?**


	11. Chapter 11

**Auhtor's note: **IT'S DONE! I'm sorry it took so long... ;-; Anyway, I'm posting this chapter and the next one together (in one piece and without the author note is has 18,400 words), but in case you find one of the * in this chapter you'll have to check the definition in the next chapter (because I'm complicated). Also, I had some + to signal every time break... but FF does not want signals, it wants words! So, pardon me if there are some confusing parts... ._.

Oh, just one last thing...

**Sascha**: BRACE YOURSELVES, THE FEELZ ARE COMING!

* * *

While stepping outside the shower cabin, Herzog noticed the full length mirror in the wall, right next to the cabin. He narrowed his eyes, studying himself in the mirror; yes, he didn't change much... if it wasn't for the gash in his face, his blueish/greyish skin and the abnormally dark rings around his eyes he could perfectly go undercover among the living. Herzog made a face, taking a better look at the tiny wrinkles that had started to appear on his face; the little bastards, uh? The rest of his body wasn't that bad all considered, and he allowed himself to grin sadly at the tricked aging process; great victory, forever 47! Then he shook his head and looked away; _Stop being vain..._, he thought.

Agnes had left a towel and a pile of clothes for him, on the carpet. He dried himself and dressed what appeared to be grey tracksuit pants and a grey t-shirt; the clothes camouflaged perfectly on his body and he felt too exposed with bare arms. Especially with that damned scar showing. Maybe if he crossed his arms... Yes, crossing his arms sounded like a great idea.

* * *

Agnes was sitting in a puff, trying not to fall asleep, when the bahtroom door opened and Herzog came out, arms crossed over his chest and visibly uncomfortable for walking around without his uniform. She offered him a tired smile:

"Fits you." She said. "Come here and take a sit." Obediently, Herzog joined her and sat in the other puff in front of her; he didn't look that threatening without the black uniform, but he was still a big man. "I've put your clothes in the washing machine, in a minute or two they'll be ready to go to the dryer machine."

Herzog frowned; that was a lot of machines! Anyway, he was glad that at least Agnes had something to save her from boring domestic chores and spare her knee. He looked down, to the white socks on his feet, and tried to ignore how exposed he felt. He looked at her again:

"You look tired." He started:

"We need to talk." She replied, and Herzog felt an idiot again. But he was not going to be intimidated by Agnes, no! He was not going to back off again, this time he would do the right thing:

"We do." He agreed. "But tomorrow. You look exhausted. Have you eaten something and taken painkillers?"

Agnes' turn to feel like an idiot and she looked down, at her hands:

"I'm not hungry..."

"You said you eat a lot."

"I do... but I don't feel like eating." She smiled sadly. "And I don't take painkillers, I don't like them."

Herzog stared at her for a while. With a sigh, he moved from the puff to kneel in front of her and took her hands, carefully, and took it as a good sign when she didn't move away. Reminded him a little of a talk he had to have with Sascha, once:

"Broken bones and surgeries, I've been there." He started. "And I didn't want anesthesia nor painkillers too. It feels good to prove ourselves how strong we are, isn't?" And at this point the young woman looked at him. "How well we can handle the pain. Or maybe I should say, how well we handle a pain that we deserve." And Agnes frowned and he offered her a grin. "How old are you?"

"20..."

"I've been there too. And what have you done to think you have to feel your bones and muscles going back to place? That's what you're telling me tomorrow, are we understood?"

Agnes just blinked her eyes and managed to smile:

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer" She replied. "But you have to tell me about you first."

"I thought ladies were first..."

"That's a Middle Ages tactic!" And her eyes seemed shinier, just like when Herzog had asked her about the Holy Grail. He smiled and waited for an explanation. "There was a lot of court intrigues, so whenever the noblemen had to climb stairs or go through a door, they'd tell the ladies to go first; if there was someone on the other side waiting for them, the ladies would be killed first, which would give the noblemen the time to either run or withdraw a sword. And they call this «courtesy»."

"Oh my..." And Herzog's smile died and he hid his face on his hands. "I lived wrong all this time! I thought it was educated!"

Agnes just laughed, delighted, and she didn't even notice the pain in her ribcage:

"It's okay." She said, and then heard a little 'bing!' from the washing machine. "I'm just going to put your clothes in the dryer, I'll be right back."

"No, you're going to sleep." And Herzog stood up and offered her both hands. "I can take care of that, machines and buttons don't scare me." Agnes rose both eyebrows. "Besides, it's my uniform. My things, my responsability."

"Very well, then." Agnes sighed and held Herzog's hands, considering her options:

a-write in a paper how the machines worked

b-believe Herzog could actually handle that

c-mentally prepare to buy new machines

She stood up, making a face when her knee decided to bother her again, and thought option a) was the best:

"I can write the instructions for you." She said, walking away carefully. Herzog didn't know exactly if he should hold her or ask her if she wanted help, so he followed her close, hands ready to catch her:

"I need no instructions." He replied. The young woman sighed, forced to chose option c). Slowly, she made her way to the bedroom door and opened it. Herzog stopped right behind her, respectfully, and wished her a good night before making his way to the kitchen, switching the light on as he got in.

He stopped in front of the two machines in the laundry area and narrowed his eyes. He could make this. He could totally make this. He kneeled in front of the machine that had his clothes inside and studied it carefully, trying to figure out where to open it. Well, he would try all the buttons! And what a lucky man he was, he managed to open it at the first try! Now... the dryer was open, so he just shoved his clothes in there and frowned before all those buttons. There was this button that said 'Temperatur' and he grinned victoriously; thank you Norwegian words that are exactly the same as German! He decided to click it until the little green light was in the 'Medium', that was surely the same 'Medium' as in German. There, it wasn't that difficult! Then he pressed 'Starte', because that had to be the German 'der Start'. And the machine began to work.

There. Once more, victory was Herzog's! He then looked around in the kitchen; there were some devices quite similar to the ones he already knew, like that thing that had to be a stove, and that other thing had to be one of those American 'refrigirators' he once heard someone talking about. He was actually curious about that, he had never seen such a thing, so he walked towards it and opened the door.

It was kind of fresh inside it. And there was some food. Agnes had eggs; good, he could make her something decent to eat. He then decided to explore the rest of the kitchen and eventually found the pantry with some food stored. Good, there was bread.

Then there was a «bing!» and the Standartenführer looked at the machine, frowning; was that the way the machine communicated? He kneeled in front of it again and after a few failed attempts he succeeded in openening it and removing his clothes. Now he just needed to iron them, but he would do that the next day.

He made his way back to the puffs and sat. Herzog looked around and concluded that house didn't seem comfortable enough for a young woman to live in. It wasn't because of the boxes and bags on the floor, it was because the walls were completely naked; no pictures, no paintings, no bookshelves... And come on, she intended to spend the rest of her life sitting on these giant pillows? Wasn't a couch better? And where were her friends to help her? He did need to have a serious talk with her, she couldn't live that spartan; she deserved better than that! Then Herzog found himself smiling sadly and staring at his hands; who was he to even think that, by the way? He had just ruined her life, she surely wouldn't want him to stay around.

The Standartenführer shook his head and made himself comfortable in the puff, trying to think positive.

* * *

When the first sunlight made its way through the blinds and into the living room, Herzog stood up and made his way to the kitchen; he had spent the whole night thinking and was feeling exhausted again. Yet he made her a plateful of scrambled eggs, because he could be a dead Nazi officer, but he was a pretty useful one.

He grabbed the dish and made his way to Agnes bedroom. The door was closed and he knocked educatedly, then frowned and wondered if that was actually a good idea. Now that he was standing there, it seemed too intimate, and he felt like he wasn't ready for such a thing and, more important, that Agnes wouldn't like that. He was about to turn around when Agnes opened the door, looking very sleepy and tired:

"Yes?" She mumbled. Herzog made a face:

"You were not supposed to stand up! Go back to bed!"

"If I wasn't supposed to stand up, why did you knock?" And she tried to hide a smile when the Standartenführer blushed, mumbled something like 'I made you breakfast...' and showed her the dish.

So they ended up sitting on her bed. Well, Agnes on her bed, Herzog on the floor, quite shocked with the fact that she was sleeping on an inflatable mattress. Anyway, she seemed to be enjoying the food, so he eventually gave up grumbling about her spartan conditions and looked around; there was just the mattress and a wall wardrobe, with dark wooden doors:

"So... do you feel better?" The Standartenführer decided to ask. Agnes had finished and nodded, putting the dish aside. "Good. Now lay down again."

"I have to unpack my things! You can talk while I do that!"

"No, you have to recover." And they both made a short staring contest that Herzog won, because really, one does not simply hold those two blue eyes for long. With a resigned sigh, Agnes lay down and made herself comfortable, pulling the blankets up to cover her legs:

"Now, you start." She said, just in case Herzog had forgotten. He leaned his back against the wall and looked down:

* * *

_Herzog was born in 1898, in a small village near Berlin. His father had a small farm with a few chickens, and as a child one of Herzog's favourite domestic chores was feeding the chickens, and then hide them in the hopes his mother wouldn't cook them. He was what could be considered a normal German child, blonde and blue eyed, even though he had always been bigger than his fellows. __In school he was actually a good student, but his parents were more interested in farming than in the «intelectual activities», as they called it. This made Herzog conclude he didn't want to be an ignorant peasant like his parents._

_In his free time, Herzog liked to sit on a wooden fence in the outskirts of the village and watch the horses. He thought them beautiful, too beautiful and noble to be ridden by mere human beings. So he decided he was going to be a rich man and have horses, just for the pleasure of grooming and looking at them. The horses liked him back, because they always gathered around him and allowed him to pet their heads or braid their manes._

_When he was 13 he met a girl, Erika, and he happened to like her a lot. He liked her so much he broke a lot of noses from his friends, until they understood the message and stopped trying to befriend her. And Erika seemed to like him too, because it's not every day a really big lad decides to be your body-guard. Erika was a beautiful girl, blue-eyed and blonde-haired, with fair skin and freckles on her nose that gave her quite a rebel look that Herzog really liked. She was also tall and strong, proud and defiant. But what he liked the most was her intelligence, she was a very cultured girl and played fiddle. However, she had a 'von' between her name and surname, and even if she seemed to forget about that when she was with Herzog, her family always remembered her about that._

_So everytime Herzog wanted to invite her to go out with him, they had to be careful. Her family didn't want a peasant like him walking around the village with their precious daughter. Erika loved the adventure that was sneaking out of the house and run to the fields, to meet Herzog, and walk with him in the forest or watch the horses._

_At the age of 15 Herzog was really sure of his feelings and told her he wanted to marry her, and that he was going to finish school, get a decent job, earn lots of money and prove her family he was worthy of her. Erika promised him she would wait for him. And at the same time Herzog knew exactly what he wanted to do with life, he was really shy. He told her (babbled...) many times he loved her, but that was that. Erika thought him adorable and felt a lucky girl everytime she looked at the girls in the village having to deal with teenage boys and their hormones._

_When he was 18 Germany had been fighting a war for 2 years, and Herzog wanted to be part of the Iron Youth too. In fact, that was a brilliant plan; he would be a great soldier, be promoted to officer, earn a lot of money and afford Erika a good life. Besides, who was the father that didn't want his daughter married to an officer?:_

_"I'll write you whenever I can!" He promised the night before his departure. It was Summer, and behind the fence the horses were looking at them, playing the role of testemonies. Herzog held Erika's hands on his and their eyes shone in the darkness; the moon was not in the sky that night and the stars were too weak:_

_"You know I can't write you back... my father would find out." She mumbled sadly, looking down. Then she looked at him, worriedly. "You'll come back, won't you? And you won't go to those brothels, will you?"_

_"Of course I will come back, and of course I'm not going to those places! Erika, you know me!" And he blushed even more:_

_"I'll be here waiting for you." She then smiled. "I'd kiss you right now... but I want our first kiss to be a welcome one, not a farewell one."_

_Herzog managed to blush even more and smiled like an idiot in love._

_He was the best during the recruit and arrived to the western front as a promising soldier. He soon found out life wasn't exactly like what he had been told during the recruit, but he didn't take long to discover how to ignore the horrors of the trenches and to find the beauty of the battle and of the scorched land around him, wounded deeply by bombs and mines. What bothered him the most were the rats, and he was the best at killing rats with shovels. Somehow he managed to be as clean and shaved as possible, because he really hated everything that was dirty and had a high probability of carrying germs._

_His first year in the trenches was a glorious one, and he became famous for his bravery and efficiency. He got a few scratches, nothing serious, and as promised he wrote Erika whenever he could. He never wrote his parents, though; those peasants didn't deserve it. Herzog was promoted to Corporal in the New Year Eve due to his merit in battle. __However, his second year in the trenches wasn't that glorious; he fought even better, was even braver and commanded some noctural assaults to the enemy trenches, across the No Man's Land... and was exactly during one of those assaults that he lost men for the first time, and that would haunt him forever._

_Crossing the No Man's Land to reach the enemy trench was easy, killing some English soldiers was even easier... but when they were retreating, the English soldiers threw grenades randomly in the dark, and the explosions and the shrapnel hit Herzog and his assault group. The young German corporal was projected to the muddy ground, just like his comrades, and suddenly seemed his legs were on fire; there was shrapnel spiked in his flesh:_

_"Is everybody alright?" He asked his men in a whisper, trying to ignore the pain. Then the red light of a flare gun illuminated Herzog, still lying on the mud, and the 10 men he had brought, also lying next to him. The man at his left was bleeding profusely from his back, where the shrapnel had hit him. The red light was followed by shouts in English, which meant the English soldiers were leaving their trenches to go after the Germans. Herzog didn't think twice, he yelled at his men to stand up and run. He stood, slowly and painfully, and at each step he could feel the shrapnel digging deeper into his flesh. Yet he grabbed his fallen comrade and put him on his soulder like a potato sack and ran after his men._

_The red light again, brief but strong in the dark sky above them. His men were right after him. He could hear the English soldiers and a bullet grazed his shoulder. Another of his men screamed and fell:_

_"Verdammt!" (Damn!) He hissed and stopped, much for his other men's displeasure:_

_"They're coming!" One of them said:_

_"Then do something useful and bring your comrade!" Herzog yelled at him, and the soldier had no other option than grabbing his comrade and carrying him on his shoulder._

_The Germans kept running, with bullets flying too close to them. The red light again and, a few meters ahead, Herzog saw the barbed wire fence they had carefully cut and passed through on their way to the English trench; it had a small cut, large enough for a single man, but that single man had to be careful not to get his limbs hurt on the loose ends of the barbed wire. Herzog gave the man he was carrying to another of his comrades and removed his rifle from his back:_

_"Go, I take care of them!" He ordered his men, lying on the ground and shooting into the darkness, where he supposed the enemy was moving. He heard a few screams, which meant he was being sucessful, but also that the English soldiers were getting closer:_

_"Herr Unteroffizier!" (Corporal, sir!) The last man crossing the barbed wire called. Herzog couldn't stand up fast enough to cross the barbed wire without being shot or captured by the English, so he crawled, and as he did that he felt one of the loose ends of the barbed wire curl around one of his arms. The English soldiers who were chasing them reached the barbed wire and one of them fell on it, screaming at the top of his lungs. One of Herzog's men shot him in the head, just to be shot in return by another English soldier. He fell next to Herzog, who managed to get rid of the barbed wire at the cost of a deep cut in the palm of his hand, stood up, grabbed and carryed him. They left the English soldiers behind and after a few more meters they finally reached the safety of the German trench._

_When he jumped into the trench, Herzog's legs couldn't sustain him anymore and he fell on his knees, whimpering, but he didn't let go the man he was carrying. It was a bit confusing as many arms reached out to him and helped him to stand up again and to walk to the rearguard, where the military hospital was installed. At his point his head was spinning and his vision blurred, his legs, shoulder, arm and hand bleeding painfully:_

_"I have 3 casualties!" He informed the Major-surgeon that came to help him. The other man, much older than him, patted his back and shook his head disapprovingly:_

_"Don't worry about them. And what are you doing, you shouldn't be walking!" And somehow Herzog found himself in an operation room. He wanted to ask if his wounded men were going to be treated too, but he found out his voice didn't want to come out. "Bring the anesthesia!"_

_Herzog shook his head when they tried to put him the mask, he didn't want that; those men were his responsability and he had failed them, he had to feel pain, feel it and remember it, so that he would be more careful in a next time. The Major-surgeon frowned:_

_"Are you sure? Do you have any idea of what happened to your legs?" And Herzog just nodded. The Major-surgeon then shrugged and began the operation. And Herzog squeezed his eyes shut and made a huge effort not to scream when he felt the doctors cutting into his flesh to look for and remove the shrapnel. He somehow didn't scream, but he couldn't stop the tears from falling down his face. It took the doctors one hour just to remove all the shrapnel from Herzog's legs, and he eventually passed out when they started to stitch his wounded arm and hand. After the surgery he was evacuated to a makeshift hospital behind the German lines, in a small and empty French village._

_He woke up the next day, in the infirmary. His left arm and right hand were wrapped in bloody bandages, his right shoulder had a small gauze covering the bullet scratch and his legs were both wrapped in bandages that had huge and dark bloodstains. He felt sore and had a huge headache. A nurse came in to check him and he asked about his 3 wounded men; all of them had died. When the nurse left Herzog cried silently, grieving their loss and horribly ashamed of himself for failing like that, and he wished Erika was there to comfort him. Later that day he was visited by the General, who had been told that, in spite of his wounds, Herzog hadn't left a single man behind, and that he even carried one himself, and for that Herzog had been suggested to be awarded with the __Verwundetenabzeichen (Wound Badge) 3rd Class and an Eisernes Kreuz (Iron Cross) 2nd Class. __But Herzog begged the General not to give him the medals:_

_"I didn't bring them alive, I don't deserve medals." He told the General, who still tried to convince him but had no luck._

_Herzog had a difficult and slow recovery, mostly because he didn't want to stay in bed; he considered there were far worse cases than him that needed his bed, that he was fine and fit for duty. He didn't want to spend his 3 months leave at home, or in some other place in Germany; he simply left the hospital when he could finally walk without limping and stayed with the rearguard of the army, helping out with the horses. Later Herzog wished he had never done that; he obviously grew fond of the horses he spent more time with, grooming them, or saddling them, or walking them in the fields untouched by the mines and artillery, and he suffered a lot when any of those horses had to go to the front and didn't come back, or came back wounded and ended up dying with their heads resting on his legs._

_Besides the loss of men, the agonizing screams of wounded horses would haunt Herzog forever, too._

_The war ended with Herzog as Feldweber (Company Sergeant-Major), which was quite something at the age of 20. He was there, in the front line, when the German army surrended, and he was one of the officers who had to swallow their nationalistic pride just for the sake of their men._

_With the war over, Herzog went to Berlin and joined in an Officers Course. It was strange to be in Berlin, so close to his home-village, so close to Erika... and yet it felt like he was miles away. He told himself many times, and wrote that many times too, that all the lead time would be worth it, that when he came back they would finally be happy together._

_He was 35 when Hitler came to power, and he was one of his most fervent supporters in the army. At that time he was quite a famous officer and both Hitler and Himmler considered him the role-model of German virtues and a Parsival of the modern times. So it was no surprise that, when the SS were given to Himmler, Herzog was among the first officers chosen to fill the superior ranks, and so he became a Standartenführer (Colonel of the SS). Hitler himself tried to convince him to accept all the medals he rightfully deserved, but Herzog refused them all.__ Herzog was also considered the perfect killing machine; he had the experience, he had the knowledge, he could shut his emotions with a frigthening ease, he was versatile, he was inspiring and he had the perfect look for a killing machine: since he had realized what the trenches were, Herzog had decided to shave his head and the rest of his body completely, to avoid fleas and lices. Not even his eyebrows survived. And he had kept that habit. So, the Standartenführer had this particular look of someone you really shouldn't disobey..._

_If Herzog had wanted, he could have been part of Hitler's «pet Generals», among some other officers of the SS. But he wasn't only an officer, he was a soldier too, so instead of staying in a safe and comfy place Herzog chose to go into battle leading his men._

_Reinhard Heydrich, who liked order and peace, was the first to suggest the SS should give an Einsatzgruppe (task force) to Herzog and send them right away to the Sudetenland*, right after their annexation in 1938. So, as a 40th anniversary present, Herzog was given the files of the 250 best young soldiers of the SS; he had to choose 80, and those would be the elite of the elite._

_Herzog wasn't very fond of paperwork, so instead of reading the files he went to watch a training of those men. Then he told the sergeant in charge to line them and called him to his side. Herzog had the files in hand, but he just wanted the pictures; he already knew who to choose. So he started to call the young men by alphabetic order:_

_"I suggest you Herr Standartenführer to include Dietrich von Auttenberg; his family is very, very influent within the Party." The sergeant suggested as he noticed Herzog ignoring Dietrich's file. Herzog frowned:_

_'"e's a little..." Herzog tried to find a kind word. "..too clumsy..." He said, but the sergeant shrugged. Herzog rolled his eyes and called Dietrich. He kept choosing his men without interruptions, until he stopped at Sascha Ritter's file:_

_"Not that one! Very good fighter, but a horrible soldier. He has the worse behaviour!" The sergeant exclaimed with a grimace:_

_"I like his hair." Herzog replied calmly with a smile and called Sascha._

_When he had gathered his 80 men, he told the others were dismissed, including the sergeant. He studied his troop's faces, memorizing every detail. He then started to walk back and forth, always looking at them:_

_"Herzog, Hein." He started. "The rank is right here." And he indicated the single oak leaf on the collar of his uniform. "What I want you to do, gentlemen, is to grab a backback and put in there clothes, books, whatever you want to take with you; we are going to the Sudetenland. You," And he turned on his heels, his index finger poiting at Sascha. "stay here with me. The others are dismissed."_

_Sascha watched as his comrades left until it was only he and Herzog. The Standartenführer liked the defiant aura around Sascha and he started to walk around the young soldier, hands behind his back:_

_"You surely know your reputation among the officers in charge around here, so I'm not bothering you with that. The point is that I liked you, so congratulations, you're now my Ordonnanz."_

_"That's quite a way to keep an eye on me." Sascha replied. Herzog chuckled:_

_"I need both eyes to guide my bullets, so there's no way I'm going to keep an eye on you." He stopped right in front of Sascha, looking at him in the eye. "But as long as you're entretained with the absolutely boring paperwork I've accumulated, I'm sure you can't be that bad."_

_"Want to try, really?"_

_"That or I'll skin you alive." And Herzog's grin sent a shiver down Sascha's spine. The scoffer smile on the young soldier's lips died slowly and he just nodded. Herzog smiled again, and he actually looked like a friendly man. "Good! Now go pack your things."_

_They were detached to the Moravia province. They left Berlin just 3 days after Herzog chose his men and travelled in a transporting Junkers Ju 390. The young soldiers didn't know exactly how to behave, because they were used to officers shouting orders at them in each 5 minutes; Herzog was just sitting there among them, reading a book. When they landed the day was ending and they had a truck waiting for them:_

_"You can read maps, right?" Herzog asked Sascha, as he watched his men getting in the truck. Sascha nodded. "Good. I like to keep both eyes on the road."_

_"You are driving?" Sascha widened his eyes in surprise and followed Herzog to the front of the truck. He sat on the passanger's seat while Herzog sat on the driver's seat and started the engine:_

_"Of course I'm driving! Keep in mind: if you want something decently done, do it yourself." And he added with a smile. "Besides, I didn't spend all those months in the Officers Course to never drive again. That would have been an epic waste of time."_

_Sascha just chuckled and unfolded the map:_

_"What are these red dots?" He asked. Herzog had both hands on the wheel and drove away from the airport:_

_"Places we have to go. But for tonight we're staying there." The Standartenführer answered, and there was a small village ahead, among the Moravian forest that surrounded the airport. Sascha said nothing, just kept his eyes on the map. "Sascha, I just said we're staying there! I have no idea of how to get there!"_

_"Really?" Sascha frowned. "Do you want me to-"_

_"Make use of the bloody map and that bloody mouth of yours, of course!"_

_"Well... you should have turned left, to get into that little road." And Herzog stopped the truck and drove back in reversed gear, maybe too fast for his men's liking, according to the comments coming from the back of the truck and from the barrage of profanity coming from Sascha. They got in the right road and the young soldier seemed to understand Herzog really wanted his help. "Then... turn right in 50 meters. And nothing else, the road goes straight to the village."_

_"Good." Herzog said contently. It was already dark when they reached the village and Herzog parked the truck near a barn. He got out of the truck and Sascha followed him to the back of the truck, where Herzog told his men to come out. When they were all standing in front of him, he turned around and walked towards the barn. "We'll stay here for tonight. Go ahead and make yourselves comfortable, I'm going to tell the owners of this lovely place that they have visitors."_

_Herzog joined his men few minutes later, much for the young soldiers' surprise; officers don't sleep on the hay... they usually get the better places, because they are officers. However, Herzog chose a little place for himself, undressed his trench coat and uniform jacket and lay down, using his backbag as a pillow:_

_"Let us establish some rules." He told his men, who looked at him mindfully. "No smoking, no drinking and no women... and I let you do all the noise you want, tell all the jokes you want, sing all the songs you want, play seek-and-hide in the hay for the whole night, use all the swear words you know and invent some if you want to. You can also leave for a walk, as long as you tell me where you are going and take enough weapons and ammo." He then covered his face with the officer cap. "Gentlemen, have a good night. We leave before dawn."_

_There was a perplexed silence, that was slowly broken by low whispers, that eventually grew to an animated conversation that only ended late in the night. Herzog slept through it all; if he had slept with bombs exploding not far from him, what were the voices of young men? Herzog was also the first to wake up, and his 80 men were still fast asleep. He ate a small portion of his field ration then stood up, grabbed one of the cowbells nailed to the wooden walls of the barn and shook it happily. His men changed immediately to a sitting position and looked at him, sleepy but wide-eyed:_

_"Breakfast. Hurry up." Herzog informed and put the cowbell back to place._

_Back to the truck, Herzog drove them to the borderland. Sascha seemed to be a little more confident:_

_"What are we going to do, Herr Standartenführer? " He asked:_

_"There are some peace-wrecker Czechs attacking the German-speaking citizens and destroying their villages. We just have to smash them."_

_"And how are we going to smash them?" And at this point Herzog smiled:_

_"With the power of imagination, of course!" And the Standartenführer didn't need to look away from the road to see the confused expression on his Ordonnanz's face. "Tell me Sascha, have you ever killed a man?"_

_"No..."_

_"Do you have any idea of how to do it?"_

_"A bullet to the head...? Oh, I get it, I get it!" And Sascha waved the map in his hands excitedly. "Imagination, like the various ways to kill someone and make that an example, right? Like hanging the traitors with a sign on their neck saying «Communist», right? That's why it's power, right? Because with fear comes respect!"_

_"Exactly." Herzog smiled, visisbly satisfied. Sascha was still too excited to shut up, barely believing he had heard that:_

_"If I want to burn someone alive with a flame-thrower, can I?"_

_"Ja." And the Standartenführer allowed himself to chuckle before the happy groan that escaped Sascha's mouth. The young soldier eventually managed to calm down and shut up, and only opened his mouth to tell Herzog where to go._

_They stopped in another village to have lunch, and at the end of the day they reached a military base not far from the place where they were wanted to stay. The 'base' was a big farm with several tents and armoured vehicles around it, and the barn was being used to store weaponry and ammunition. Herzog and his men stayed in a big tent and that night all the young men decided to go to sleep at the same time their Standartenführer. But still Herzog was the first one to wake up in the next morning and, after a quick breakfast, he paired and queued them:_

_"Gentlemen, we have a bunch of Czech worms to eradicate from the Earth." He said as they walked on the roadside. "You can do whatever you want; burn them alive, skin them alive, the classical bullet to the head... All I want from you is: fast and efficient. You start at my command and you stop at my command. I have your back and you have my back. Are we understood?"_

_"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer!" The young soldiers exclaimed excitedly, not taking their eyes off their officer, with his black trench coat, a machine-gun hanging on a shoulder and a rifle hanging on the other; the most unusual sight of an officer... if not unique. __Another one of Herzog's particularities had to do with the mission reports; unlike the other officers, who would do them alone or dictate them to someone else, Herzog always gathered his men around the typewriter and they would do the report together and they all would sign it._

_Months gone by and Herzog's Einsatzgruppe spread cruelty and chaos in the borderlands. As the time gone by the rebels began to give up, because unlike other SS or Wehrmach units, Herzog's was completely unpredictable, and once given the chance to release the monsters within his men were unstoppable. Unstoppable, yet very well commanded; besides a few scratches, Herzog didn't lose a single man, which was a great victory._

_It was a foggy day and the Einsaztgruppe was gathered in the living room of the big farm. That was another of Herzog's «magic powers»; he always got the better accomodations for his men, and seemed really pleased when his men bothered other officers and their men, like what they were doing in that precise moment; they were playing football inside the house, celebrating the great victory from a few hours earlier, when the Wehrmacht sergeant and his 10 men that had previously occupied the building had decided to move in to a tent outside, because the Einsatzgruppe was a bunch of really bad neighbours. And Herzog was calmly sitting on the couch, reading a book, his head protected by a helmet just in case the ball decided to say 'hi'. And that was when he noticed Dietrich, sitting alone in a corner while everybody else was having fun chasing the ball upstairs. The Standartenführer studied the young soldier for a moment, until he left the book and the helmet aside and stood up, made his way towards Dietrich and kneeled in front of him:_

_"Why aren't you playing with them?" Herzog asked, and the young soldier looked at him; he was indeed a wonderful piece of Aryan art, with shiny grey eyes and dark blonde hair, but he really didn't belong in a war. Dietrich wasn't a bad soldier, he was probably the most obedient one and didn't lack imagination when it came to eleminate the enemy... but he was too clumsy, too slow, too loud and too dumb (or innocent, Herzog couldn't tell exactly), and that made him extremely dangerous, for himself and for the rest of the company. He was the kind of soldier right to a propaganda poster, but not to the battlefield:_

_"They don't like me..." Dietrich mumbled and looked down. Herzog sighed; he had noticed that, that the rest of the Einsatzgruppe didn't accept Dietrich. It was perfectly normal, though, and the Standartenführer knew that Dietrich had always been the kid left aside, because he wasn't a leader, nor a jester, nor a bully... and young men always gather around a leader of bullies who has a jester, because that's the perfect company. Herzog decided to sit next to the soldier:_

_"Make them." He suggested. Dietrich smiled bitterly:_

_"Sascha said I stopped in time at the age of 5..." He told. Herzog bit his lower lip; Sascha had been chosen by is comrades as the leader of the group, even a blind man could see that, and Herzog couldn't blame his other soldiers, because Sascha had actually the thing to be a leader. "... and they all agree." Dietrich sighed. "I'm not stupid, Herr Standartenführer... I know I'm in the SS because my parents have money, and I know I'm here because the sergeant in charge told you to choose me."_

_Herzog was taken aback and, for a little while, he didn't know exactly what to say. He then put a hand on Dietrich's shoulder:_

_"Very well, you're right. I didn't want to choose you, Dietrich; you're slow, loud and stupid. You can't even throw a grenade in a straight line. But you're brave and loyal, and those are good things." He squeezed the large shoulder in his hand and Dietrich whimpered a little. "So, why don't you prove us all wrong? Why don't you show us that, although you stopped in time at the age of 5, you're good enough for this Einsatzgruppe?!_

_Dietrich looked at him in the eye and undertsood Herzog was giving him a chance nobody else had. He nodded enthusiastically:_

_"Danke schön, Herr Standartenführer!" (Thank you, Colonel, sir!) He said and stood up, ready to join the football game. Herzog allowed himself to smile and returned to the couch, put his helmet back and opened the book again. He managed to read 3 lines when someone sat next to him heavily. He didn't need to look to know it was Sascha, because Sascha had that terrible habit of throwing himself over the places where he intended to sit:_

_"I saw what you did there." Sascha said. He was smiling. "Did you tell him you'd have a chat with me and make me stop treating him like a child?"_

_"Of course not. Keep doing that, he has to grow up somehow, even if that consists on dealing with someone as annoying as you."_

_"Come on, what did you tell him? Look at him now, he even got the ball! Had the ball..."_

_"I told him to prove himself worthy. Look at him, I bet he couldn't even play in the mud like a normal child!" Herzog closed his book and finally looked at Sascha. "And you should stop nosing around, Sascha..."_

_"I'm checking on the well-being of my comrades, that's all!" The Ordonnanz replied dramatically. Then his face became serious. "Why did you talk to him?"_

_"Why do you question every little thing I do?"_

_"Because I'm your Ordonnanz!"_

_"If I recall, you didn't want to..."_

_"You're getting old and messing things up, I've always wanted to be your Ordonnanz!" They both chuckled. "Come on, tell me..." And Herzog sighed. He looked over the couch's back and noticed that the football game had turned into a rugby game that was slowly crawling upstairs. Dietrich was actually fighting hard to keep the ball. The Standartenführer then looked at Sascha, sitting right next to him, but when he began to speak his eyes looked to some point over the young soldier's blonde hair, like he always did when Sascha made him speak about too personal things. That was one of the reasons why he liked Sascha so much; Herzog wasn't much of a talker, especially when it came to private matters, but Sascha somehow made him speak, and it actually felt good to talk and be heard, and it sometimes even made the Standartenführer feel lighter. Besides, he knew he could trust his extremelly annoying Ordonnanz, because Sascha never told the others things they weren't supposed to know:_

_"Sascha, there are times when you need someone to tell you you can make it. No matter how old you are, or the situation you are in. When I had your age I had no officer to tell us, to tell me, we were going to be fine. Of course they told us we were going to win the war, but as the time gone by and things became worse, no one was there to give us hope." Herzog removed the helmet and placed it over his legs. "A perfect German does never feel scared, or tired, and never has a moment of weakness; good for them. I'm German, but I'm not perfect. Dietrich is not perfect too, but maybe one day he will be. And even me, maybe some day I'll finally be a perfect German. But for now I'm just me, and I've had your age and I've been in a war, I've seen my childhood friends die one by one until there was only me, and I never had someone to give me that little push." He finally looked at Sascha. "And I don't want my men to go through it."_

_"But the other officers who fought in the Great War don't to this kind of thing."_

_"Because they forgot what they are." And Herzog grinned bitterly, raising a hairless eyebrow. "I'm not just an officer, I'm a soldier too."_

_The rugby game was moving downstrairs again, in all its glorious fuss. Sascha grabbed a pillow from the couch and hugged it:_

_"You are quite something." He said, and this time Herzog smiled and covered his head with the helmet again._


	12. Chapter 12

_In 1939 Herzog and his Einsatzgruppe were moved to Poland just a few days before the absolute victory of the German army. The older soldier of the Einsatzgruppe was 20 and the younger was 18, but they were already considered heroes and the real elite of the elite._

_Poland was a little different from Moravia and Herzog understood it the second he stepped on Polish soil; the political situation was different from the one in the Sudetenland, and those people were not Nazi supporters who were actually happy to see them around. So, the first thing Herzog did when he came out of the airplane, in Danzig, was to keep his officer cap in an inside pocket of his trench coat and put a helmet on his head:_

_"Gentlemen, you know the rules; pair, queue and move. I want you focused and ready to fire, are we understood" He asked his men as they lined in front of him:_

_"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer!" They answered. Herzog nodded and adjusted the backback on his back and the machine-gun and rifle on his shoulders:_

_"Vorwärts, marsch!" He ordered. They went on foot to Warsaw and found little resistence, but the one they found was fierce. Still Herzog didn't lose a single man and they were received as heroes in Warsaw by their German comrades. In the city, the Standartenführer decided to establish his head-quarters in a hotel, and it was with great joy that his men expulsed some of the previous clients and occupied their rooms. Their mission now consisted on patrolling Warsaw and the surrounding villages._

_In a winter day, during one of those patrols, Herzog's men were nearly caught in an ambush; Dietrich saved them that day, when he commented that the silence in the woods was scary. When he heard that, Herzog suddenly realized it was indeed an unnatural silence and they all ran to the nearest village, with 100 men chasing them. They had to deal with the villagers too that, when noticed the Einsatzgruppe was running from Polish people, tried to help their compatriots. So Herzog had to send 40 men to deal with the insurgent villagers and kept 40 men with him, in a small road between the woods and the village. Even though the Polish men who were chasing them were more, all they had were knives and rifles, and many of them died as soon as they were in the fire range of the German machine-guns. The others, who were just injured, were taken by Herzog and his group to the village. The situation in the village had been easily solved with a few shots, and the German soldiers had gathered the small population in front of the church:_

_"Is anyone hurt?" Herzog asked when the two groups met:_

_"No, Herr Standartenführer." Sascha, who had leaded the group in the village, answered. Herzog nodded; so the only wounded had been Dietrich and Wilhelm, who were in Herzog's group and had been shot in the arm and shoulder. Then some of the soldiers circled the church while the others shoved the people inside, and then Herzog set it on fire._

_During the first week of 1940 there were other rebellions in the small villages around Warsaw, and Herzog's Einsatzgruppe annihilated them all. However, these rebels had good rifles and machie-guns and they were very fond of urban conflicts, if fighting in a semi-burnt village can be considered that. During the last of those conflicts Herzog saw one of his men being shot in the chest and realised there was a sniper in one of the houses behind. Herzog himself took care of that sniper, running directly to the house where he thought the sniper was and getting in, wrathful. While running in the street, he didn't even notice the bullets flying close to his body. But once inside the house he was careful, and instead of using the machine-gun or the rifle he used his Mauser, that was easier to maneuver in tight spaces. The sniper knew he was in the house and came downstairs to try to shoot him, but Herzog was faster and shot him first, in the wrist of the hand that was holding the rifle._

_He then dragged the sniper outside, where he met his men; the other rebells were all dead:_

_"Is Erich dead?" Herzog asked Sascha, who nodded sadly. Herzog offered the wounded sniper a grin. "Get me some knives." He told him men, who gave him the knives they found in the rebells' bodies. The village had a dirt ground and Herzog nailed the sniper's hands to the ground with the knives. The Polish man screamed at the top of his lungs and the Einsatzgruppe cheered. Then Herzog used his SS dagger to skin the sniper alive, completely deaf to the man's pleas and cries... that only ceased when he died for bloodloss. When that happened Herzog was still skinning his chest; he had skinned the man's neck and right arm and hand like he was peeling a potato, with surgical precision._

_He stood up, blood dripping from his bare hands, and moved towards Erich's dead body:_

_"Let's hope nothing eats that swine before the other swines find him." He told his men as he lifted the dead body and carried it._

_That night Herzog locked himself in his room and took a cold water shower. The wrath was gone, and all he could feel was shame; he had lost another soldier, he should have done things differently! He left the shower and checked if his uniform was already dry; he had washed it and left if near the fireplace. He got dressed and lay down on the bed, looking at the ceiling._

_Then someone knocked at the door. He squeezed his eyes shut. That someone knocked again. Herzog cursed and went to open the door. Sascha got in, carrying a bowl of stew:_

_"You didn't show up for dinner." The young soldier accused, placing the bowl on a nearby table, next to the typewriter. Herzog made his way to the bed and lay down again:_

_"I'm not hungry." He mumbled. Sascha took a seat on the bed, next to him:_

_"You've been too quiet since we got here, you didn't have dinner with us and we're not writing the report. And you also need to write a death certificate and make sure they give Erich a medal."_

_"Do that yourself, you're here to take care of my paperwork." The Standartenführer grumbled and turned around, leaving Sascha facing his back. They spent a few minutes in silence, until Sascha shook his head and spoke again:_

_"It was not your fault..." The young soldier hesitated, then added. "... Herzog." And watched as Herzog's body tensed. But it wasn't the fact that a soldier had adressed to him using his last name that bothered him. He glanced over his shoulder, to Sascha, and then looked away again:_

_"How old are you?" He asked. Sascha frowned:_

_"I'll be 20 in a week." He answered, and smiled. "And you're invited to the party and I was thinking about baking a cake and-"_

_"Do you know how old I am?" Herzog cut him, not really with the patience he usually had for Sascha:_

_"No..." And the smile was still in Sascha's lips. "... but since you're a Standartenführer I'd say 50-something."_

_"Wrong. I'll be 41 in August." He turned around to look at Sascha. "I spent two years of my life in the trenches, and I only left them in two occasions; when I was injured and had to be evacuated and when the army surrended. I was 20 and was a Feldweber. I spent the rest of my life since then in Berlin, studying and training to be an officer." At this point Herzog's voice was a whisper, filled with badly contained anger. "I should have thought about the sniper, I should have considered that! I should have been more careful, if I had made a different approach Erich wouldn't have died!" And he looked away from Sascha's blue eyes to his hands, looking at the bloodstains only he could see; blood of the men he had lost._

_Sascha crossed his legs over the mattress and moved a little closer to Herzog, looking at him comprehensively:_

_"Back in Moravia you said you weren't perfect." He recalled. "You're still not perfect. Losing men in a war is perfectly normal, everybody does that, so no one is perfect."_

_"I should have known!" Herzog hissed, eyes wide open, and he held both of Sascha's hands. "I am an officer, you are my men, my responsability! My mission is to keep you alive and take you back home safe and in one piece!"_

_"Sshh, you're too young to blame yourself!" Sascha exclaimed, trying to ease the mood. He managed to make Herzog smile a bit, even though it was a sad smile. "I'm serious, that's not good for your head. You think too much, hence your baldness!"_

_"Sure... Opa." (Grandpa) And this time Herzog's smile was wider. Sascha narrowed his eyes:_

_"Now you think you're funny, uh?" He asked, gesturing dramatically. "Well, you're not! You're boring."_

_"I'm not boring, you're having the time of your life with me." Herzog sighed and looked at the ceiling again, feeling a little lighter and glad that he had someone to talk to:_

_"No, you're boring... look at you, Herr Fop!" And this time Herzog had to laugh hard. "Reading, playing chess and drawing trees, that's all you can do... and you call yourself «funny» or «amusing»? That's why you don't have a ring on your finger, women like funny men. Like me."_

_"You're not a man, you're just a kid. You can't even grow a proper beard!"_

_"Look at you, Herr Bald!" And this time they both laughed. " And I shave everyday, just like the rules say! Now seriously, why aren't you married?"_

_"Have I not told you to stop nosing around?"_

_"You should grow some eyebrows, women like eyebrows!"_

_Herzog let out a fake suffering sigh and changed to a sitting position, rubbing his forehead. He felt like he was starting to talk too much, that he shouldn't have this kind of conversation, that he couldn't allow a subordinate to adress to him by his name... but he couldn't deny he enjoyed Sascha's company. And besides all the banter, Sascha was a highly trustable soldier and, when the Einsatzgruppe had to spilt, he would be the one leading the other half and he would do exactly like Herzog would. To be honest, after all those months, Sascha felt like a right arm. The Standartenführer shrugged:_

_"I do have someone in mind." He confessed. Sascha widened his eyes. "Don't look at me like I suddenly grew another head!"_

_"Really? Do you actually know a woman?" And before this Herzog blushed:_

_"Don't be stupid, Sascha... everybody knows a woman."_

_"Not Dietrich." The young soldier giggled. "Anyway... that's good! I was wondering if you knew where babies come from!"_

_"Oh my... this is not happening..." And Herzog hid his face on his hands, trying not to laugh. "Sascha, in case you didn't notice, I'm your Standartenführer!"_

_"And you can't imagine how grateful I am for that." Sascha replied seriously. And they stared at each other for a while, and Herzog frowned. "When I grow up I want to be like you."_

_"You don't..."_

_"Can't you just shut up and let me woo you?" And Herzog had to laugh again. Sascha smiled, delighted. "Much better than staring at the ceiling, blaming yourself for something you have absolutely no fault, don't you think?"_

_"Fine, you win."_

_"Good. Now, you eat and I write the death certificate." Sascha said and stood up, making his way to the table. He handed the bowl to Herzog, sat at the table and started to type. "By now I already know by heart your fancy writing style. You do like Romantism, don't you?"_

_"It's not fancy, it's... erudite." Herzog corrected, eating the stew. Sascha made a funny face. "And when you are done with that, write a letter to the General; I need a soldier to replace Erich."_

_"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer."_

_And for a while the sound of the typewriter filled the silence. When Herzog was finished he looked at the empty bowl in his hands, and he moved from the bed to a small couch near the table:_

_"Why?" Was all he asked. Sascha had finished the death certificate, handed it to Herzog and put another paper sheet on the typewriter. Then he smiled, typing again:_

_"If I was an officer, I'd surely like it if my soldiers told me that I had no fault if something went wrong. I'd like to know that they're with me, no matter what." He stopped typing and looked at the Standartenführer. "You know that, right? That we're all with you. You do deserve our support, Herzog."_

_Herzog just nodded, still looking at the empty bowl; he felt touched and glad there was this friendship between him and his men. Especially Sascha._

_Some days later there was another rebellion near the German-Soviet border, and Herzog drove his men to the place. It was a village, again, and this time Herzog was much more careful when he divided his men in two groups and they attacked. The Standartenführer was afraid of losing someone else, so he decided that this time Dietrich was coming with him; the young soldier had become quite talented with the flame-thrower. That day was particularly cold and it was snowing, and that only made Herzog more nervous; his men didn't have the snow camos, and the black uniforms** were ridiculously outstanding in the Polish snow._

_There was movement behind the window of a nearby house and Herzog fired his machine-gun:_

_"Take cover, take cover!" He shouted at his men, before the enemy retaliated. He saw something, certainly a grenade, being thrown out of the window of another house and he jumped to the ground and rolled under a hay wain at the same time the grenade exploded. He didn't lose time lying on the ground and stood up again, firing the machine-gun to every window. "Dietrich, burn the bloody bastards alive!" And it was with great joy that Dietrich started to set all the houses on fire, while his comrades circled them to make sure no one would leave them. In urban combats, setting the houses on fire was the easiest and fastest way of finishing it._

_Herzog walked next to Dietrich while he fired the flame-thrower happily. They ended up meeting the rest of the Einsatzgruppe near a house farther than the others, where the soldiers hand found hidden women, children and old people:_

_"This one speaks German!" Sascha informed Herzog, showing him a young woman he was holding by the hair. The Standartenführer frowned, looking at the bleeding gash in Sascha's arm. "She said we were monsters!"_

_"Oh, are we?" Herzog asked, looking at the gathered civilians. His other men joined them. He looked at the woman. "Tell them to start digging." But she said nothing. He then chuckled and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I forgot my education. Sascha, let her go." Which Sascha did, but before the woman could say something or do anyhting Herzog punched her, and her jaw and nose cracked. She fell on the snow and he allowed his men to kick her. Then he turned to face the scared civilians. "Dig." He ordered and gestured._

_Those people digged a huge mass grave with their bare hands, then were fuzilated and thrown into it. The woman who spoke German had been beaten to a bloody pulp and the Einsatzgruppe made their way back to the truck:_

_"What happened to your arm?" Herzog asked Sascha. The young soldier had bandaged the wound while the civilians were digging the mass grave, and now the bandage had a huge and dark bloodstain. But what worried Herzog the most was Sascha's quietude:_

_"One of those little pieces of shit had a bayonet." The younger soldier replied with a smile. The Standartenführer started the engine, frowning:_

_"Watch your tongue, young man..."_

_"I'm dying and that's all you have to tell me? I thought we were friends!" And Sascha pretended to cry. Herzog let out a sigh; apparently his Ordonnanz was fine..._

_Herzog left his men at their «hotel-head-quarters» and then drove Sascha to the military hospital, a few blocks away. The young soldier was clutching to the seat like his life depended on it:_

_"Slow down, will you?" He asked Herzog when the Standartenführer nearly ran over a man who was crossing the street. "Or at least aim to the Jews!"_

_"Out of my way, Untermenschen!" (sub-humans) The SS officer shouted through the window to the people in the street. They finally reached the hospital and Herzog stopped the truck right in front of the door:_

_"Shouldn't you leave this place to the ambulances?" Sascha asked as he slowly got out of the truck and followed Herzog into the hospital:_

_"Shouldn't the Wehrmacht do something to deserve a place to park their ambulances?" Herzog snapped and ignored the receptionist, going straight to the surgery rooms. He eventually noticed Sascha wasn't managing to keep up with him, so they stopped and he told Sascha to sit on the floor and wait, while he left to get him a doctor. When he came back the doctor took them to a minor surgery room to stitch Sascha's arm:_

_"Aren't you going to anesthetize him?" Herzog asked, realising that wasn't in the doctor's plans. The man gave him an ugly frown:_

_"It's just a scratch." He answered. Herzog gave the doctor the ugliest frown of all and the other man grew paler. "But... now that I look closely... he might have lost some blood... Yes, I will anesthetize him." And he left to go get the bottle with the product and the mask. Sascha looked sadly at his Standartenführer:_

_"You are embarassing me! I'm an SS soldier, I'm the best! A needle with a thread doesn't scare me!" He hissed. "Just because you have a trauma with being stitched doesn't mean I can't handle that! And the man was right, it's just a scratch!"_

_"You are poor and ungrateful." Herzog mumbled, crossing his arms and turning his back at Sascha._

_When the small surgery was done, the Standartenführer had to carry Sascha back to the truck; it hadn't been a total anesthesia, just enough to leave him a little... sleepy. Sascha was talking, though, and he went on an almost endless rant about how his legs felt funny and weak. When they reached the hotel Herzog went to check on his other men; they were all gathered in the dinning room singing military marches. Then, with an arm wrapped around Sascha's waist, he took the young soldier to his room:_

_"You are overprotective, you know that?" Sascha slurred when they were climbing the stairs. "Fucking carpet, trying to make me trip!"_

_"It was a step. Maybe if you didn't drag your feet..."_

_"You are overprotective, you know that? Don't igonre, I mean, ignore me!" But Herzog just chuckled and opened the door of Sascha's room. "Fucking anesthesia, that's why you never took it, right?"_

_"Yes yes, it was all part of an evil plan to make you look like an idiot." The Standartenführer helped him to lay on the bed and to take off the boots. Sascha fell on his back and curled in a ball. "You're not going to sleep with the jacket and tie, no way! And don't lay on that arm, if you break the stitches I'll stitch you myself, and you won't like it!"_

_"You're a butter-heart, I love you..." Sascha mumbled while Herzog tried to undress him the jacket and remove the tie. The Standartenführer rolled his eyes:_

_"Stop with the nonsense." He replied, but the young soldier was already sleeping._

_In the next morning Herzog was sitting on a chair near the bed when Sascha woke up. The young soldier looked at him with one eye open and a grimace:_

_"I feel dizzy..." He grunted. "Please tell me I didn't say anything stupid..."_

_"Good morning for you, too." The Standartenführer saluted, tilting his head. Sascha hid his face under the pillow:_

_"I feel sick, stupid anesthesia..." He whimpered:_

_"I'm not giving you breakfast. Let me see that arm."_

_"Arm's fine..." But Sascha stretched his injured arm towards Herzog anyway. The Standartenführer removed the bandage and observed the gash; it was a little swollen around the stitches and Herzog pressed it lightly. "I thought we were friends, stop hurting me!"_

_"I need to disinfect this."_

_"You should see my father." Sascha uncovered his head and changed to a sitting position, looking at Herzog with a sad smile. "He's a Psychiatrist. He could help you with this craze of yours; not that I don't appreciate your concern, but your overprotectiveness is not healthy."_

_Herzog was going to reply that, but someone knocked at the door and Dietrich peeked inside:_

_"Herr Standartenführer, there's a delivery for you." He said, then smiled at Sascha. "How are you?"_

_"I'm dying..." Sascha replied. Herzog cast him a reproving look, stood up and followed Dietrich downstairs. The hotel had a big lobby with full-length windows and the Einsatzgruppe was gathered there, making it difficult for everyone else to get in or out and obviously enjoying making someone else's life difficult. Herzog joined his men; they were circling a young SS soldier and asking him how many Untermenschen he had killed. The young soldier was visibly embarassed:_

_"Heil Hitler." Herzog saluted, and the young soldier replied shyly. The Standartenführer then looked at his grinning men and shook his head. "Go get Sascha a «get well soon» gift, will you?"_

_"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer!" The Einsatzgruppe saluted and ran upstairs to get their weapons. Herzog then looked at his «delivery», Erich's replacement; he had brown eyes and blonde hair, an elegant body and a friendly expression. The Standartenführer then noticed he had the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, and he didn't even had his tie; so, that's why the young soldier was looking at him like he was a piece of that strange modern art:_

_"Herzog, Hein; SS-Standartenführer." Herzog said. "Come with me. What is your name?"_

_"Kohl, Fritz." The soldier replied, following him upstairs:_

_"Age."_

_"18." And Herzog smiled sadly:_

_"You have just arrived, right?"_

_"Exacty. 30th SS Infantry Regiment, we arrived yesterday to Warsaw."_

_"You can dress a wound, right?" And the Standartenführer opened the door of Sascha's room and got in, his new soldier following close. Sascha, still lying on the bed, looked at them curiously. "Erich's replacement. Keep an eye on him, Sascha."_

_"Sure." Sascha said and Herzog left them._

_Herzog knew Sascha was perfect to welcome someone; he was quite talented to show people what was their place in the Einsatzgruppe. But he really wasn't expecting Sascha to adopt Fritz like that, and he could barely believe when he found out Fritz was the missing jester the company needed; every joke Sascha started and every prank he suggested, Fritz would complete the joke and help him with the prank. Herzog couldn't do much besides laughing, especially when the pranks victimized other officers who tried to stick their noses into the Einsatzgruppe's businesses. Besides, Fritz was a good soldier with an excellent aim._

_During the Autumn they erased a particularly annoying village from the Polish map. When they came back Herzog decided not to bother his joyful soldiers with the report and thought it was a very good time to write Erika; he hadn't written her in a few months. So he went to his room, locked the door (something he did only when he wrote her) and sat at the table, picking up a sheet of paper and a pen to write; Herzog always asked her if she and her family were fine, even though he knew she couldn't answer. In that letter he told her he and his Einsatzgruppe would go back to Berlin in December, and that he was planning on finally meeting her again. When he finished writing, Herzog crossed his arms over the table and rested his chin on them, allowing himself to smile like a fool in love. He was one afterall, right?_

_In the following morning he left the hotel without having breakfast just to deliver the letter for Erika in the military post office without having Sascha asking him «Who are you writing to?». When he came back he went to his room to leave there his officer cap and trench coat... and that was when he noticed it, looking at him shamelessly in the middle of the room, between the bed and the table; a rat, a big and fat and ugly Polish rat! Herzog narrowed his eyes and the rat hid under the couch:_

_"You little..." He snarled, walking backwards to the door. He closed the door of his room and trotted to Sascha's room, at the end of the second floor. He knocked, but no one answered and the door was locked. Probably Sascha was still sleeping. Herzog removed a bunch of keys from the pocket of his breeches, opened the door and got in. He was about to start talking about his most bizarre encounter while circling the bed to face Sascha... but then he froze, looking with big, wide blue eyes at his Ordonnanz._

_And Sascha sustained his stare, visibly scared yet defiant, pulling Fritz closer to his chest. Fritz was still sleeping._

_The Standartenführer looked at them, blinking slowly, until his neck started to redden. With a grimace, he pulled a chair close to the bed and sat heavily, crossing a leg. He then opened his mouth to speak, lowly, and his voice came out as a series of very, very angry growls:_

_"Sascha, what have you done?" He asked. Sascha bit his lower lip, still looking at Herzog, and he used the arm he had wrapped around Fritz's waist to pull the younger soldier even closer. "What have you done, my big idiot?"_

_"You know what I did, you don't need to ask." Sascha replied. Herzog's eyes grew even wider and Sascha flinched. "I... we... we did nothing wrong! I... I started, he has no fault in this!"_

_"I don't want to know what you did, you idiot!" Herzog's voice was louder. "I want to know how could you be so stupid to the point of doing it!"_

_"I-"_

_"What if someone else had got in this room? Do you know what would happen, do you? You'd be taken outside, naked, shot in the head and then hung with a sign on your necks! Is that what you want, Sascha? Is it?"_

_"You'll wake him up..." The Ordonnanz mumbled in a shaky voice:_

_"Do I look like I care?" Herzog growled, and Fritz eventually woke up, first confused, but when he saw the Standartenführer he widened his eyes and tried to hide under the blankets. "Don't you dare hiding, young man! Look at me! Both of you, look at me!" Which they did; Fritz was already crying and Sascha was close. Herzog wanted to punch them both, but he ended up doing that to the mattress. "Sascha, you told me once you had a girlfriend! How could this happen?"_

_Sascha grew paler and Fritz glanced over his shoulder, and Herzog understood the younger soldier didn't know that. That only made him angrier and he bent forwards, grabbed Sascha's chin and squeezed it painfully:_

_"How could you be this stupid, how?" He hissed, raising his hairless eyebrows. Sascha didn't answer, just looked at him. Herzog shook his head and let go of Sascha's chin. He stood up and raised a threatening index finger. "This..." His finger was pointing the two young soldiers in the bed. "... is not going to happen again. Ever!"_

_"You can't tell me who I sleep with or not!" Sascha exclaimed. Herzog offered him a grin:_

_"Believe me, I can. And you should consider what I've just told you, it would be a shame if little Fritz had to go back to his Regiment... that will go to France in the next month!" The grin was gone and Herzog's voice was cold and sharp. "I hope we are understood, gentlemen." The Standartenführer made his way to the door and he heard Fritz sobbing. He opened the door:_

_"Thank you for ruining this, really!" Sascha yelled at him. Herzog locked the door and went back to his room, completely forgotten about the rat and his empty stomach. He sat on the bed and ran his hands through his shaved head, laughing sadly; what he had witnessed didn't disgut him, it just hurted. Hurted a lot; why didn't Sascha tell him, he would have helped him without a second thought! Sascha's friendship and loyalty were much more important that the Führer! Wasn't that what one of the things German superiority was about, the highest moral values? His moral values told him to do anything for his soldiers. He massaged his temples, tiredly, let out a sigh and looked around... and noticed the rat on his table:_

_"Neineineineinein, not the bloody papers!" He hissed, throwing his dagger at the rat. But the rat escaped... Herzog laughed nervously, stood up and left. He came back later, after eating breakfast, and with a broom; he was going to kill that rat, but he obviously wasn't going to waste bullets with it._

_So he kneeled on the floor and tried to hit it with the broomstick, under the couch. But what if the rat ran towards him on the broomstick and bit him? Herzog stopped what he was doing and decided he needed to assure his security first; maybe if he wore his gloves... but would the leather protected him from those teeth?, or maybe he should make a trap... but how would he make one? Then suddenly someone knocked at the door:_

_"Ja." He said absently, looking to the hiding place of the rat. He heard the door opening, steps, and the door closing and locking. He looked away, hoping the rat wouldn't move from under the couch, to see who had came in. Sascha was standing near the door, already dressed, his hair a usual mess and his head low. Herzog sighed again; that was the day! That was the day to try his patience! But lucky Sascha, he was endlessly patient! The Standartenführer stood up and put the broom aside. "I presume you want to talk." And Sascha looked at him, with puffy reddened eyes, and Herzog concluded he didn't want to see Sascha like that again. For the first time since they had met, the SS soldier seemed embarassed:_

_"I want to apologize... for my behaviour." He mumbled. "I'm in no position of-"_

_"If you are going to insinuate I'm giving you and Fritz to the Gestapo... you better shut up before I shove that broom down your throat." Herzog snarled angrily, and Sascha flinched. "Did you really think I was going to do that, my little bastard?"_

_"No... but... you seemed angry..." Sascha's eyes filled with tears again. "I'm... I'm sorry, Herr Standartenführer! It wasn't supposed to be like that."_

_"You haven't seen me angry, and I hope you never will." Herzog rolled his eyes and went to sit on the bed, tapping the empty space beside him. Sascha followed him sheepishly and sat. The Standartenführer studied Sascha for a while, until he let out another sigh and rubbed his temples again. "I'm just going to ask you this once and I want you to be honest."_

_"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer."_

_"Do you like men?" And before this Sascha blushed and shook his head. "Sascha..."_

_"I don't like men! It was just Fritz, that stupid kid is adorable!" And Herzog widened his eyes:_

_"You can't do that with someone just because you think them adorable!"_

_''It's not only that!" Sascha was red as a tomato. "It's more... I just... I just don't have such a wide chivalrous vocabulary like you..."_

_"You better develop one!" Herzog's time to redden. "Why didn't you tell me about the two of you?" And Sascha looked down and started to fidget with his fingers. "Don't you trust me?" Herzog sounded hurt and Sascha looked at him again, sadly:_

_"It's not that! It's not like I've been plotting this since Fritz joined us, it just... it happened! We were planning to prank one of the Wehrmach guys and I just... I was stupid, I'm sorry I was stupid!" Herzog frowned and Sascha sighed. "I don't actually love him. I might, but it's not that kind of love... I do like him, he's my best friend, I'd give my life for him!"_

_"How can you do that with someone you don't love?" The Standartenführer had never understood why people did it, now sounded like a good opportunity to learn. Sascha pulled his own hair:_

_"I love him but I don't! Goddamit Herzog, it's complicated, you're worse than Dietrich!"_

_"If it's complicated then explain it to me, because I do want to understand what went through that thick head of yours!"_

_"Fine, horses! You like horses, you told me that. You like them so much that you don't want to ride them, right?" And Herzog nodded. "Yet you do every little thing you can to be close to them, right? I saw you the other day talking to the Regiment horses!" Herzog nodded again. "That's it, I like Fritz just how you like horses! I know I can't have him, just as you know you can't ride them because they're too majestic for you, right?" Herzog nodded again. "Yesterday... yesterday I got a bit out of control... maybe a lot... He did nothing to stop me, though! Don't look at me like that!"_

_The Standartenführer raised an eyebrow, then shook his head and looked away from his Ordonnanz. They spent some time in silence, until Sascha spoke again:_

_"I do trust you, Herzog... I really wanted to tell you..." His voice was shaky and Herzog looked at his blue eyes, filled with tears again. "You're just... you're so perfect, you do everything right... I just wanted to be like you."_

_"You don't want to be like me, and I'm not perfect. I've done a lot of wrong things." Herzog looked away from Sascha again. "If you want to do everything right... you should have told me."_

_"I'm sorry..." The young soldier looked down and crossed his arms. The Standartenführer bent his neck backwards and felt it snap:_

_"And you should have told Fritz about your girlfriend, waiting for you in Berlin."_

_"I don't even like her, it was all an evil plan from my mother! She's boring and dumb as fuck, but my mother wants me to marry her because she's rich!" Sascha whimpered sadly."Can you believe these people, they have no morals! That's why I like you so much, I'm sure you'd never make your son marry someone because they're rich!" Herzog just smiled sadly, but his smile died as soon as Sascha burst into tears. "Fritz hates me... I ruined everything! I know I behave like an idiot but I wanted it to be special for him!"_

_"Stop crying..." Herzog mumbled and pulled his Ordonnanz to an awkward hug, and he suddenly felt extremely guilty; he shouldn't have reacted like that, he should have stayed calm and he really shouldn't have mentioned Sascha's girlfriend. He bit his lower lip. "I'm sorry, I messed up..."_

_"You really did, you bloody first times wrecker..." Sascha sobbed against his shoulder. "But I messed up more than you."_

_"We both messed up." Herzog suggested with a smile, and he felt the young soldier smile too, against his shoulder:_

_"We both messed up." He agreed. Then Sascha's smile was gone. "Fritz hates me... he just left and didn't even let me explain, he locked himself in the room and doesn't want to talk to me."_

_"Give him a little time to cool down." Herzog suggested and made a note to self; never stay in a hotel again, nope!, from that day on they would stay in a house, because the less privacy the best! Sascha just nodded and pulled away from him, drying the tears with the back of his hand:_

_"You know a lot, how come that you're not married?" He asked. Herzog made a face:_

_"Not your business."_

_"You're not even married to the Waffen, how?" But this time Herzog smiled. He pulled a chain from under his shirt and showed Sascha his dog tag and his SS-Ehrenring (SS Honour Ring). "Ah! For a moment I thought they were actually stupid not to give you one. You'll get the sword too?"_

_"I have no idea." Herzog slipped the dog tag and the ring under his shirt again. "You have to sort things out with Fritz, are we understood?"_

_"I know I have..." Sascha looked down again, smiling with no joy. "He means a lot to me. Would... would you really send him back to his Regiment?"_

_"I would, to keep you both safe."_

_"If someone finds out you'll be in serious troubles..."_

_"Do I look like I care?" And Sascha looked at him and shook his head. "Good."_

_The Standartenführer stood up and felt lighter. He would have forgotten the rat again, if Sascha hadn't asked:_

_"Why did you get in my room like that? And why were you kneeled with a broom when I came in?"_

_And that was how Sascha ended up helping Herzog to chase the rat; the Ordonnanz just had to scare it so that it would run to another place, and Herzog just had to hit it before it reached the new hidding place. After several failed attempts and after almost all the furnishings were left upside down Herzog finally hit the rat with the broom. He then grabbed the tip of its tail and took it to the lobby, to show everybody the wonders of Polish hygiene._

_They moved to a little house out of the city in that same day, after killing the hotel owner, managers and all the clients and setting the building on fire._

_Some weeks after the «Sascha incident» Herzog noticed that everything seemed normal between the blue-eyed and the brown-eyed soldier. He felt curious about that, but he also felt it was none of his business, so he was just glad for them. He also had to attend to a few briefings about the development of the war in the western front and he decided to take Sascha with him:_

_"It's not my birthday." The young soldier stated as they left the last briefing and walked back to their head-quarters. It was snowing ligthly and they both shoved their gloved hands into their pockets. "And it's not Yule!"***_

_"No, it isn't." Herzog agreed. "But I want to make you officially my second-in-command. And I want to see something else in your collar, besides the runes."_

_"Stop that, you'll make me blush!"_

_"We'll have a 3 months leave, then I'll try to make us stay around in Berlin and you're making the Officer Course for SS-Hauptsturmführer (Captain). It will be another 3 months, so I think I'll manage to keep the Einstatzgruppe around."_

_"Big bastard, you're making me cry! And fuck, it's cold and the friggin' tears are freezing on my face!"_

_"I'm glad we agree on this."_

_That night they were all gathered around the fireplace in the living room of the small house that was their head-quarters. Herzog was reading a book, unaware of his men's conversations. Then one of his soldiers, Jürgen, called him:_

_"Herr Standartenführer?" And Herzog closed his book and looked at him. "You're the only officer around without medals. How can that be possible?"_

_"Because I don't deserve them." The Stadartenführer replied calmly:_

_"How?" Another of his men, Hans, asked truely shocked. Herzog sighed:_

_"Because for me, a piece of metal is worthless when compared to the lives of the men I couldn't save." He answered and opened his book again. His men went silent for a while, and it had to be Sascha to break the respectful silence:_

_"So, can we hug you?"_

_In December 1940 they went back to Berlin by airplane. Everbody was excited and Herzog had a difficult time trying to contain the idiot smile that wanted to spread on his face, but he somehow managed. He could barely believe that, after all those years, Erika and he would finally be together._

_They arrived to Berlin at the nightfall, and everybody ran to catch the train (those who were not from Berlin) or the tram to go home. Herzog, with the backbag on his back and the rifle and machine-gun hanging on his shoulders, made his way on foot to the barracks where he had lived since 1918. He had heard about the Allied bombings on the city, but that part of Berlin hadn't been affected. However, as he passed near the Zoo, he saw the construction works of a Flakturm (Flak tower) and couldn't help but praise the Führer for his most brilliant idea to defend the city from the Allied scum._

_He managed to go to his old room practically unnoticed; he wasn't very fond of heroic receptions for himself. Besides, he had more important things to do, like bathing decently and shaving. And he finally allowed himself to smile like an idiot, feeling happier and lighter than ever. That night he could barely sleep and he thought himself a fool for such teenage behaviour, but he eventually fell alseep while thinking about the wedding, because there had to be a wedding. And if Erka didn't mind, he was going to invite all his 80 glorious soldiers. And Sascha would be his best man._

_On the following day he woke up earlier than the usual, had another bath just for the sake of it, swallowed breakfast in the canteen and then made his way to the downtown; he was going to buy Erika a ring. In fact, he could buy her whatever she wanted; he had made quite a fortune during his career, and he would only stop the day a bullet took his life. So, he bought her a silver ring with diamonds, and after hiding the little box in an inside pocket of his trench coat he made his way to the countryside, to his little home village._

_It was strange to go back, after all those years. He wondered if his parents were still alive, and if they would recognize him. But he had never written them, so maybe (if they still existed...) they thought he was dead. And probably the whole village too. There was only Erika, for him. It took him a while, but he finally reached the village, surrounded by fields covered in a thin layer of snow. With large and confident strides, he crossed the village towards Erika's house; it was a big Fachwerkhaus, the biggest in the village, near wheat fields and pastures for the sheep. His heart was racing like it had never raced before. The gate was open and he had to bit his lips not to smile._

_Herzog crossed the yard and stopped in front of the door. He rang the bell and waited. He was sure his heartbeat could be heard outside of his body. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the door was open. Erika opened it, and he finally allowed himself to smile and felt tears in the corner of his eyes; she was even more beautiful than what he remebered, with a shoulder length haircut where once had been a long braid and some make-up where once had been none. But nevermind, Herzog loved her:_

_"Erika!" He exclaimed, and it suddenly felt like his face was too small for his smile. She widened her eyes and gaped. He frowned a little; she was supposed to jump at him and hug him, like he saw many other couples do. But maybe she didn't recognize him; he had changed, afterall. "It's me, Hein! I told you I'd come back for you!"_

_"Oh my God, Hein!" She exclaimed, and her eyes filled with tears and she covered her mouth with a hand. Herzog was starting to feel confused; he knew nothing about women, only a few things he sometimes overheard when his comrades where talking about their wives... but those weren't happy tears, no way. Then he noticed a little boy standing at the doorway, peeking from behind Erika, looking from her to him:_

_"Mutti, was ist los?" (Mommy, what's happening?) The little boy asked. Herzog widened his eyes; did he hear right? Erika dried the tears to the back of her hand and stepped outside:_

_"Gehen Sie nach oben, Hans." (Go upstairs, Hans.) She said, and the little boy vanished into the house. As she moved outside, Herzog noticed something on one of her fingers that made him feel like a 21cm Kanone 38 had recoiled into his stomach; a wedding ring:_

_"I told you I would come!" He hissed, eyes sparkling with anger. Erika began to cry again. "I wrote you! I promised you!"_

_"I know! And I've read all your letters! But Hein... my family...! They wanted me to marry, I had to marry!" She gave a little, shy step towards him, but he stepped back. "You took so long!"_

_"I made myself a man worthy of you!" He felt his hands shaking. In fact, his entire body was shaking. "I kept myself for you, only for you! And while I was working hard to earn enough to give you everything you wanted and to give your family the perfect son-in-law..." Herzog bit his tongue before he could say something... nasty:_

_"I had no choice!" Erika sounded indignated. "I wanted children, I had no idea when you'd finally come back!"_

_"Are you suggesting I couldn't give you children?" Herzog was hysterical and Erika pulled her own hair:_

_"No, you idiot! I wouldn't be able to conceive from a certain age on! What use of a husband if we can't have children?"_

_They stared at each other in a deafening silence. Herzog's hands curled into fists:_

_"When?" He asked in a growl. Erika dried her tears again with her fingers:_

_"My older daughter is 10 years old." She answered. And Herzog let out an inhuman scream; 10 years ago, when he had been in Berlin, studying to be an officer... and 'older daughter', there were more! He had waited all that time while she had passed her time happily putting children in the world!_

_He turned around and ran, his vision blurred with tears, and he ran, kept running... until he found himself in his old room, at the barracks._

_Home._

_Herzog threw his officer cap and his trench coat to the floor, allowing himself to cry. It was the worst pain he had ever felt; it pierced, it burned, it throbbed, it made him dizzy and sick and exhausted and the more he cried the worse it felt. He fell on the bed and wished he would never leave it again._

_In the next morning someone knocked at the door and got in. Herzog had his face hidden under the pillow and there was only one person in the world who did that... and it was exactly the last person Herzog wanted to be seen by:_

_"Herr Standartenführer?" Sascha called. Herzog squeezed his swolled red eyes shut, painfully; he looked miserable, lying on the bed still fully dressed, with muddy boots... and his face was surely something horrible to look at! He didn't move, even though he knew he couldn't fool Sascha. The Standartenführer felt his Ordonnanz sit next to him, on the bed. "Herzog?"_

_Herzog sighed exhaustedly and uncovered his face, looking at Sascha. The younger soldier frowned:_

_"What happened to make you cry this hard?" He asked, truely concerned. Herzog bit his lower lip and felt his eyes fill with tears again. Sascha widened his eyes and started to move his hands nervously. "Herzog, you're scaring me! What happened? Please, tell me! You know you can trust me, right? We're comrades and friends!"_

_The Standertenführer didn't want to cry and he didn't want to sob, and to stop himself from that he bit his lip until it bled. However, at the same time, all he wanted to do was bury his face on Sascha's shoulder and tell him that the only woman he had loved had ruined everything he believed in, had destroyed all his dreams, had reduced him to that shameful wreck. And he actually opened his mouth to cry out, to trust Sascha just like the young soldier had done to him about Fritz..._

_But... his mortally wounded pride was just that, moribund. It still had a little life left. And what would happen to that little life when Sascha knew he had failed miserably as a man? As a German man. What would Sascha think when he told him he was innocent to the point of trusting a person's word? What would his men think when they knew their Standartenführer, besides having no medals, had no family; no woman, no children... nothing. Just his Einsatzgruppe, just his weapons._

_They will think you are a loser!, a little voice whispered inside Herzog's mind. They will think that a man who fails so miserably at being a man is not worthy of leading them!, the little voice kept saying, and added, Because... if you are not a man... how can you be a soldier?_

_Herzog's words died in his throat and he closed his mouth. He felt a lonely tear run down his cheek and he was suddenly aware of Sascha's hand on his shoulder:_

_"Herzog... Herzog, talk to me." He heard the young soldier beg. But the little voice inside his head was stronger, and it told him that he was a soldier, an officer, a leader of men, that he was an SS officer and that he leaded the elite of the elite. And the elite couldn't fail. He couldn't fail. He shook his head, looking at Sascha, and he could see his lips moving and his worried expression, but he still only listened the little voice in his head. Besides... all he knew was death... all the different scents of death, all the different shapes and colours and velocities... All he knew was how to take a life, not how to give one._

_His heart stung and he changed abruptly to a sitting position:_

_"I'm fine, Sascha." He mumbled, walking to a full length mirror on the wall opposite to the bed and watching his face on it. He then noticed something he had never noticed before; little wrinkles. He frowned, suddenly forgotten about Sascha, and removed his jacket, tie and shirt. He had always been big; tall and with broad shoulders and a large chest. The years of war and the every-day training in the barracks had only made him bigger. But now that he was aware of it, his muscles didn't seem as chiseled as before. Age, the little bastard! Herzog grinned sadly; seemed not only women had to worry about that! He did a note to self to make more and harder exercise:_

_"Herzog...?" Sascha called again, quietly. The Standartenführer blinked his eyes and turned around to face his Ordonnanz. "Do you want to talk about it?"_

_"There is nothing to talk about." Herzog replied, finally shutting his emotions; he wasn't a colonel for crying over his men, was he?_

_Sascha just nodded and left._

_That same day Herzog drove a black car to his home-village; a black car full of Gestapo agents. He parked the car in the yard of Erika's house and was the first to get out, followed by the Gestapo agents, all uniformed with the expection of their commander:_

_"The little Red bastards, right under our noses!" The commander commented to Herzog as he watched his men break open the door of the house and storm in. "Herr Standartenführer, you truely are an amazing man!"_

_"Danke." Herzog replied solemly. He could already hear the screams and it didn't take long until Erika, her husband, their 4 children and Erika's father were dragged outside by the Gestapo agents. Two of them aimed at them while the others prepared everything to set the house and the barn on fire; the properties now belonged to the Party, that would surely make good use of them._

_Erika held her children close, terrified, and for a moment her eyes met Herzog's... but his where now sharply cold, no emotions left:_

_"Finish the old man first." The Gestapo commander ordered:_

_"I would like to, if possible." Herzog asked with a smile. "Afterall... they're infecting my home-village." And the Gestapo commander nodded. Herzog removed his Mauser from its holster and aimed to the stomach of the old man, then pressed the trigger:_

_"Chic!" The Gestapo commander laughed; by shooting the stomach, Herzog was giving the old man a painfully slow death... he would die with his internal organs burned by his own stomach acid:_

_"You flatter me!" Herzog exclaimed and laughed too, because he wasn't doing anything wrong, he was just eliminating his enemies. He decided to shoot Erika's husband in the throat and let him drown in his own blood. The Gestapo agents cheered. The house and the barn were on fire. Erika cried and screamed, terrified and confused. He decided not to shoot the children, instead he grabbed one by the arm and walked to the flaming house. The Gestapo agents cheered again and decided to help him with that, and the children were burned alive._

_He then looked at Erika; she had seen her father, husband and children die, and her house was burning down. He considered killing her... but that would be too good for her:_

_"Herr Kommandant, I think she would be useful in a factory... what do you think?"_

_"That you should be a Reichführer-SS (Empire-Leader of the SS), Herr Standartenführer!" The Gestapo commander replied, and cast a greedy look at Erika. Herzog just smiled._

_When the 3 months leave was over, in February 1941, Herzog was detached to the Ukraine. He made no objection; their were winning the war, Sascha could make the officer course when they were back and Germany was victorious, which would give him more experience, and therefore he would have a better grade, something that could make it easier to apply for the higher ranks. But honestly... all Herzog wanted to do was run away from Berlin and its memories._

_He knew he was different, and that his men probably didn't like that, but he wanted to prove himself he was worthy of leading them. That he was powerful and mighty. He was cruel to the enemy before, now he was even more. He did the reports himself and was never that talkative with his men again, because he had learned the hard way that when you like someone too much you might pay it dearly._

_The Einsatzgruppe was sent to Norway in 1943, to the very north of the country, to keep in check locals who were suspected of helping the English. When the rumors about Germany's defeat began to spread and seemed more and more like an inconvenient truth, Herzog ordered his men to gather as much gold and jewels they could; he planned to share the loot among his 80 men and send them to Ireland, that had tried to be an ally of Germany against England. He hoped they could live safely there, and Herzog would never forgive himself if he let something happen to his men. He didn't know what to do or where to go, so he kept one box for himself, just in case. He also didn't tell his men about his plans, afraid someone could hear them._

_During the first weeks of 1945, his men gathered 180 boxes of loot. One night, when Herzog was about to tell them about his plans, their head-quarters, a cottage halfway up the moutains, was attacked by rebelled locals. Dietrich, who was standing guard, was the first to die. The second was Konrad, who had managed to run to the living room, where the Einsatzgruppe was gathered, and tell them to run before an explosive broke through the window and filled the living room with shrapnel, killing Konrad and some other men and injuring the Standartenführer in the face. Herzog managed to take his men safely to the back of the cottage and they left by the back door; they had a doctor with them, but the man was in one of the other rooms and the Standartenführer didn't want to lose anyone because of a man who wasn't even part of the company. But they were soon found and, no matter how loud Herzog yelled at his men not to panick and stay together, many panicked and started to run in different directions, just to be chased and ambushed by the locals._

_They had left in a hurry, so the only weapons the soldiers had were their Luger P08 and Herzog had his Mauser. Herzog watched, horrified, as his soldiers died one by one, until the only ones still running up the moutains where Sascha, Fritz and Herzog:_

_"We need to find somewhere to hide!" Herzog said; he was right behind his two soldiers, watching their back, but that didn't stop one of the locals, who was hiding in the snow at the same level as they were, from shooting Sascha in the throat. And seeing Sascha fall on his knees, eyes wide and gushing blood from his mouth and neck, felt like the end of the world. Herzog managed to kill the bloody peasant, and that was his last bullet._

_Herzog wanted to quit, to curl up and cry, but Sascha wasn't dead yet and Fritz was still alive; he had to take Sascha to a hospital, he had to take care of Fritz! So they both carried the wounded soldier to the top a mountain, where they found a cave. Herzog decided to leave Fritz and Sascha alone for a moment and hid the box he had brought in the inside pocket of his jacket in a secondary cave. Then he came back and, while trying to think of a way of saving Sascha, he found himself witnessing helplessly as his Ordonnanz, his best friend and comrade, died slowly. And it hurted even more when Fritz prefered to suicide and leave him alone... but Herzog couldn't blame the young soldier for that._

_He digged a grave for them both, thinking it would be at least comforting to be buried with the one you once loved in life. He would never known that, though, and allowed himself to cry; Erika was surely dead because of him, his men were dead because of him, Sascha was dead because of him... the ones he had loved and cared for where gone, there was just him on the top of the mountain._

_And he started to feel himself succumb, and he cried harder and screamed harder, cursing everything and everyone, but especially himself for not taking care of his men. He swore he would avenge his soldiers, no matter what... until everything went dark._

_He woke up in the middle of the snow, and at first he thought he had just fainted. Good thing, his face didn't hurt anymore, and he curiously felt well-rested. Not looking at the place where he had buried Sascha and Fritz, he went to the cave and found the little box. He opened it, trying to think in what to do next, and discovered a little mirror; good, he could take a look at the damage that had been done to his face. So he took the mirror outside and looked himself... and then he screamed and let go the mirror, and he screamed again because that wasn't a human scream, it resembled one of a wounded animal. A big and dangerous animal._

_His skin... his skin looked like those of the corpses he had left in the Polish snow! And his face looked horrible, with a gash that had torn off part of his lips! He tried to mouth 'Oh my!', but instead of words all that came out where growls. Herzog panicked and tried desperately to speak, until finally he managed to growl something that resembled human words. Panick, panick, panick! He took a hand to his heart... and felt no heartbeat._

_Then he understood he had to be dead... but at the same time he wasn't! Which meant he was still there, in the world of the living, and he could do things! Of course he could do things, he has moving, he could run, jump! He had tricked death! He was actually powerful, he wasn't dead-dead!_

_He had never been happier before, maybe his men weren't dead-dead too! He used his hands to uncover the bodies of Sascha and Fritz... but they were apparently dead. Just like Herzog had left them. Their skin had that strange colour too. The Standartenführer felt disappointed and sighed, and allowed himself to caress Sascha's face. A blue light sparkled between his gloved hand and the soldier's face._

_Sascha's blue eyes opened and he changed to a sitting position, blood dripping from his mouth. And Herzog was happy again._

_With Sascha and Fritz following him, he returned to the place where their head-quarters had been; there were only ruins now. They retrieved a few things, like some spare helmets, flags and a field bed, but the most important thing was that Fritz found his old comrades buried in the snow, next to the cottage. And Herzog came back to the cave with his 80 men and the doctor; he had never felt that powerful before._

_Time gone by and eventually they chased one or two unwary citiziens who dared to climb the moutains too high. Their clothes and devices where quite strange, and Herzog started to wonder about how long he had been «asleep». One of their last victims had a newspaper in a backbag and Herzog was most surprised when he read the date and confirmed his suspicions._

_That could only mean one thing: he had been given a chance to redeem himself before his men, to avenge them and to lead them to victory. And it all started when a bunch of noisy young locals dared to steal Herzog's little box._

* * *

*the SS didn't go there in 1938... but I wanted them to! :D

**the service uniforms were grey... but I want them black! :D

***Hitler decided to re-instaure the Pagan festivity Yule instead of Christmas (Yule coincides with Christmas)

**_Weeeeee, review?_**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's note:** thanks for the reviews. :3

* * *

He felt sick and squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed by the memories he had so carefully buried in the back of his mind. All the faces, names, years, places danced inside his head in a painful turmoil. Then he felt a light pressure on his arm and looked at it, to see a small hand resting on it. Agnes had moved closer to him and she was looking at him... but Herzog couldn't identify the emotion, or emotions, in her face. Was it pity?, was is compassion?, was that the begining of a friendly smile? He sighed and looked at his hands; there were the bloodstains again:

"I must confess the situation with you got out of control." He mumbled. "My plan was to use you and, depending on the result, kill you to make you join my men or just... kill you. I suppose..." He paused, like coming to this conclusion had been the most exhausting thing he had ever done. "... when I saw you talking to Sascha and Fritz... I got jealous. I mean, they look dumb, and I must confess I didn't even bother with that, I thought I was the best, because of my powers... Sascha is right, I'm actually an arrogant bastard. So I thought you should talk to me, not to them... which makes me a greedy bastard. Also, maybe I missed having someone to talk to..." Herzog snarled. "But in the end... they took better care of you. I failed again!" He grinned sadly and looked at her. "My intention was not to cause you troubles..."

Agnes blinked her eyes, slowly, her brain still processing that someone had actually wanted her company, that someone had actually been jealous for her:

"So, why did you leave me behind?" The young woman asked:

"You needed real medical care. I couldn't give you that."

"Why didn't you just kill me? If that was your initial plan..."

"It was." Herzog hissed and moved away from Agnes, like the hand on his arm was burning his skin. "I did want to kill you; my men like you, you like them... it would make everybody happy. They would forgive me, maybe... But," He paused again for brief seconds. "I couldn't do it. What about your friends, and your family? And I'm sure you have places you'd like to visit, things you'd like to do... I couldn't be that selfish again... I couldn't drag you with me to that cave, like what I did to my soldiers."

"Well, you should have killed me." Agnes replied coldly and Herzog had to look at her, surprised. "There is nothing here for me."

* * *

_Agnes never came to know her parents; her mother died giving birth and her father died in a car crash weeks later. All she had was her elder brother, a 20 years-old soldier. __She grew up in the local barracks, surrounded by the military, and at the age of 5 she decided she wanted to join the army too. Her brother was a paratrooper and always told her that when she was grown he would take her to jump with him. Agnes liked living there; they allowed her to go everywhere, she could attend to her brother's martial art lessons and she was even taught to shoot. __Life in the barracks was good; everybody liked her and she liked everybody. Even the grumpy generals turned into lovely grandfathers everytime she was around. There was always someone available to take her to school and go pick her up, and after doing homework she was allowed to help the handler of the military dogs._

_When she was 10 there was an exhibition with the paratroopers. She was with the medical staff, watching the men jumping from the airplanes; her brother was among them. However, something went wrong; one of the soldiers had a problem and his parachute didn't open. He fell on free fall on the fields where his comrades were landing safely, much for everybody's horror. That man was Agnes' brother, as one of the generals told her later that day._

_She didn't shed a single tear that day, because she thought she was strong, and was surrounded by strong men. She didn't want to be the weak one. And she also decided she would never skydive._

_Having no other living relatives, Agnes had to go to an orphanage and she never managed to cope with the sudden change; first she was in a place she liked, with people who were her friends and her brother, people who would never harm her... and now she was just another child among so many, alone, with no friends and no brother to protect her. She had a tough time with the bullies, and even though she knew how to defend herself she was afraid of fighting, afraid that it would make things worse._

_Agnes still thought herself strong, even though she allowed herself to cry at night, under the blankets._

_She was a good student, and that was another reason why the other kids picked on her. She listened to a different music and dressed differently, which made her the most uncool kid in the orphanage, and no one wanted to be close to her. She didn't want them around, either; Agnes preferred the solitude and the memories of the barracks. She gave up on joining the military and thought about doing something related to History, memories and past._

_Archaeology seemed fun and exciting, even though it required team work and in spite of her awkward social skills._

_There were moments during the rest of her childhood and her adolescence in which she thought about suicide, but there was this little voice telling her that she was stronger than that, that she would manage through it all. That voice was her own voice, and she eventually stopped thinking about suicide and such. When she was 18 she decided to cover her arms and neck with tattoos, because she didn't want to look at the scars on her skin anymore; maybe hiding the scars would shoo the ghosts away._

_Agnes realized all that 'strenght' had made her a cold, even empty, person; wake up, eat, study, work, eat, sleep. Not having friends to go out with offered her a good chance to have good grades in the university and the time to have a part-time job, that allowed her to move to an apartment of her own when she was 19. Getting rid of the orphanage had felt good._

_When she started working she had to act friendly with her colleagues, even though she never felt comfortable with them and never trusted them to the point of developing something else. Her cynism disgusted her to the point of making her cry herself to sleep, at night. Agnes felt like a machine, and there were days in which that thought was maddening, and for the first time she started to wish she had someone, a friend, to talk to; someone who wouldn't judge her, someone who would support her._

* * *

"Now I can't even make the field work, which I love... You would have done me the greatest favour of all..." She sighed, looking at the ceiling.

They spent several minutes in silence, and Herzog didn't take his eyes off her. He shook his head, slowly and sadly:

"I had no idea..." He whispered. A small smile grew on her lips:

"I like your soldiers. I feel comfortable with them." She changed to a sitting position, grimacing when her ribcage stung. "I miss them."

_She didn't miss you._, the little voice inside Herzog's head said, and he tried to ignore it:

"They miss you too. Sascha kicked me out and told me only to come back with you." He told. Agnes smiled:

"We can go now!"

"No, you are going to stay here recovering, and I am going to stay here and make sure you recover." He then added, unsure. "If you want me to..."

The young woman frowned; was he actually volunteering to stay with her? That was new, and Agnes tried to think of an answer that wouldn't sound too desperate for company. A dead man's company, by the way:

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I've just ruined your life!"

"Did you plan to fight those Russian creeps?"

"No... I didn't even know..."

"So, you didn't ruin my life. Bad luck, that's all." The young woman assured, lying down again on her uninjured side to look at the Standartenführer. "Anyway, there is no reason not to kill me. As you brilliantly said, everybody will be happy."

"I wouldn't."

"But you've just said-"

"That there are things you'll want to do, places you'll want to visit." Herzog cut her bitterly, because it had been tempting before and now was even more, since he knew she would actually be grateful for it. "You are young, you'll change your mind."

Agnes just narrowed her eyes, even though she had to admit Herzog was right; there were places she wanted to visit, things she would like to do. And now that she was there and knew those dead men actually missed her and wanted her around... life didn't seem that bad. She didn't feel such a loser anymore. With a sigh, Agnes stretched out a hand towards Herzog:

"Let's make a deal." She proposed. "I'll give Life 20 years to make me change my mind. If that doesn't happen, you have to find me an Ahnenerbe* badge and kick out that creepy Doctor to make room for me."

20 years. Practically the same time he waited for Erika. Herzog took her hand carefully and smiled:

"Deal." He accepted, perfectly aware that he was throwing away the only chance to be completely happy. She was still smiling at him and it made him feel strange inside, and he wondered if his guts had grown life of its own and if they could move. He shook his head, now feeling like an idiot; that was the kind of thing someone like Sascha would think about and make a great epic from!

"You should have told Sascha." Agnes commented and her face became serious. "He's hurt with you."

"I know..." The Standartenführer mumbled, looking away from her. He noticed they were still holding hands and blushed, and hoped she wouldn't notice. He took a deep breath and decided he should make himself useful. "Can I take a look at your stitches?"

"I think there's something wrong with them, but I can't even put a band-aid correctly..." She said, smiling again and kicking the blanket away with her healty leg. Then she dragged herself closer to Herzog, sat and rested her back against the pillow.

He loosened the elastic bandage and then unwrapped the normal bandage that protected the stitch on her knee, always careful not to touch her leg, because a decent man doesn't touch a lady's leg, never! He frowned when he noticed a small yellow stain in the white bandage, and the frown became worse when he too a look at the stitch:

"I hope you know you can't fight off an infection right now." He told her, narrowing his eyes and approaching his head to her knee, too see better. His freezing breath against her skin made her shiver. "Have you ever heard of disinfecting?"

Of course she had, but she hadn't had the patience for it. Herzog pressed his fingers carefully around the stitches, and the coldness of his fingers actually felt good:

"If Herr Standartenführer allows me to move, I'll go disinfect that." She said. But Herzog shook his head and stood up:

"I'll do that for you." He then added quickly. "If you allow me to."

"It's... fine." Agnes replied, and hoped she didn't sound too desperate to have someone doing that for her. "There is oxygenated water, cotton and new bandages in the bathroom's cabinet."

Herzog nodded and left, coming back little later with the mentioned items. Agnes moved to the border of the mattress and stretched her legs on the floor, grimacing when she moved her injured knee. Herzog kneeled next to her and soaked a cotton ball in oxygenated water:

"You should have stayed in the hospital and do some mechanotherapy..." Herzog grumbled, cleaning the stitches with the caution of someone disarming an explosive. Agnes took a while to answer, marvelled with such a careful big man. Big dead man. Big dead Nazi man:

'You mean phisiotherapy... I didn't want to stay at the hospital." She finally answered, and the Standartenführer looked at her with big, wide blue eyes. That eye with that scar was still very impressing. "I wanted to come back to you and the guys and understand what the heck happened."

Herzog didn't answer, he didn't know what to say or how to feel; moved and happy because she had came back in such conditions, angry because that was all his fault, hopeful because she was there... yet he couldn't help but mentally sing victoriously and tell the little annoying voice in his head to go plant potatoes. He finished disinfecting her knee:

"The other stitches." He said. Agnes hesitated a little, but she ended up lifting her t-shirt above the stitches. Herzog frowned again and started to unwrap the bandage around her ribcage. "I can count your ribs, you're too thin."

"I haven't been hungry..." She mumbled, watching as he disinfected those stitches too. And besides... moving was painful, so she didn't want to move much, and that implied cooking. "Aren't you going to bandage the stitches again?"

"No, they need air to dry. If you keep them covered, they'll be humid, and that's good for infections."

"You know a lot!"

"I've seen much." Herzog smiled sadly and put the cotton and the oxygenated water aside. "What time is it?" And Agnes picked up her phone from the floor, near the mattress, and lay down again on her back:

"10 a.m."

"Good. Sleep again."

The young woman wanted to protest and tell him she wasn't sleepy or tired... but she was. However she was stubborn, and she crossed her arms:

"You should sleep too, you look exhausted."

"I don't need to sleep, Agnes..." Herzog replied patiently, and it actually felt nice to say her name without the 'Fräulein'. Yet he did feel exhausted... but he was stubborn too:

"I want you to sleep."

"No, I want you to sleep."

"Let's make a deal!" Agnes proposed, and the Standartenführer made a face. "You can bring the puffs and sleep here, so we both know the other isn't cheating." Sounded decently fair.

But not for Herzog.

That was indecent! He couldn't sleep in the same room as her, that was just.. wrong! And it was even wronger when he caught himself nodding in agreement and making his way to the living room to bring the puffs. He placed the puffs at a respectable distance from her mattress, though... and noticed she was already sleeping. He considered putting the puffs back to place and do something useful like piling all her boxes and bags in a corner, so that the living room looked a little more organized... but instead he lay on his side, facing her, and closed his eyes. Just five minutes wouldn't hurt anybody...

He woke up with the sound of rain against the closed window. With an involuntary yawn, he changed to a sitting position and looked at Agnes; she was still sleeping. Herzog found himself smiling and realised he hadn't had a nightmare. That was good. He reached out for Agnes phone and saw 12 a.m. on the screen.

The Standartenführer made his way to the kitchen.

* * *

Agnes woke up with a cold finger poking her shoulder. She opened one eye, lazily, and found Herzog crouched next to the mattress, holding a dish full of... mashed potatoes and sausages. She frowned and cast Herzog an utterly surprised look. The Standartenführer shrugged:

"I didn't destroy your kitchen. Much." He assured, and she widened her eyes and he chuckled. "My mother used to look at me like that everytime I cooked."

"It's not that..." She mumbled, sitting, even though it was comforting to know her kitchen was fine. "It's just... Hein, you're spoiling me!" But he just frowned and tilted his head, not understanding. The young woman sighed and held the dish; it actually looked good. A dead man that could cook, what else would they invent?:

"What do you mean, Fräulein?" He asked, sitting patiently on the floor, enjoying her satisfaction with the food:

"Nobody has ever cooked for me like this."

"You can't move, it's more than obvious that I'd do that for you!"

"You really are overprotective." Agnes smiled and drew a swastika on the mashed potatoes. Herzog laughed and shook his head; he wasn't overprotective, he just took good care of what belonged to him. And Agnes was still his archaeologist, his subordinate... and apparently they were friends now. He observed her as she had lunch; she was small, with delicate features and seemed fragile... yet she was strong, resistant, persistent... with moral values... unlike Erika. Agnes could barely move, but there she was, she had came back to the Einsatzgruppe, to her comrades, to her leader!:

"Hein?" She called, interrupting his thoughts. He nodded. "Yesterday you said you'd stay with me while I recover... I'll take 2 months before I start woking at the museum..."

"I'm going to stay here with you." Herzog assured her:

"But what about the guys?"

"Sascha will take care of that." And the Standartenführer smiled, stood up and took her empty dish to the kitchen:

"Can you work with the dishwasher?" Agnes asked, hopeful:

"I could give it a try, but I can actually wash these things without breaking them." Herzog said, because that couldn't be different from washing his old military lunch box, right?

* * *

*An institute to research the Archaeological and Cultural history of the Aryan race.

**Weeeee, review?**


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note:** thank you people so much for the reviews! *cries because so much happiness* And I'm so sorry for the late, but I've just started the new semester and I wanted to download all the pdfs I need and plan all the works before things get serious. : 3

* * *

Agnes spent the rest of the week in bed, and she was amazed to find out Herzog knew how to cook something else besides mashed potatoes and sausages. And seemed her kitchen was still doing fine. From the second week on she found out he actually knew how to recover her knee (and basically all her weakened muscles), and he even knew how to use the gym ball, something Agnes only understood with the help of mighty Google. The Standartenführer was quite rigorous, and even though she complained about all the pain he would make her do one hour of exercise, twice a day. But in spite of the painful exercises, Agnes was feeling better, both in the outside and in the inside.

Herzog was almost back to his confident self and, in spite of his and Agnes' speechless agreement about him sleeping on the puffs in the bedroom, he still mantained at least 20cm of distance between them and never touched her, unless he had to help her with an exercise or had to check her stitches; he felt like only with the recent happenings he had realised how... perishable she was, and he was suddenly afraid of hurting her. He was still the same quiet man, even though he really, really wanted to talk more with the young woman and have with her the old relaxed thing he had had with Sascha. Herzog did miss that... even if he was too proud to voice it.

* * *

It was a rainy day and Agnes had just taken a hot shower; it felt really good after Herzog's «morning drill». She got dressed and wrapped her hair in a towel, and left the bathroom with the help of the crutches; Herzog didn't let her walk around the house without those. She slowly crossed the living-room; it didn't look such a mess anymore because the Standartenführer had entertained himself lining up the boxes and bags along the wall. Agnes finally reached the room, where she found Herzog on the puffs, reading one of her German magazines about medieval swordmanship:

"You're running out of supplies." He informed, not taking his eyes off the magazine. Agnes sat on the mattress, left the crutches aside and reached out for her laptop on the floor, next to the mattress, and put it on her lap:

"I'm going to do some shopping, then." And she looked at him, right on time to see him close the magazine and open his mouth to protest. "Online shopping... I don't even need to get out of bed." Herzog frowned, just like she expected, and she patted the empty space beside her on the mattress. The Standartenführer hesitated, and Agnes concluded it was the perfect time to make Herzog understand once and for all she did want him there, not only as a personal trainer. "Hein, you should be enjoying the fact that no one else is here to take my attention from you..."

"You make me sound childish..." He grumbled, feeling the frozen blood on his veins heat up a little. But she was right, he should be enjoying her company, like he had wanted to do. Herzog sighed, defeated, and moved from the puffs to the mattress, sitting at a certain distance but still able to see her laptop:

"You can sit closer, I won't bite your head off."

Herzog rolled his eyes, not moving an inch:

"Look at you Agnes, you're small and delicate. I don't want to hurt you." She gave him her best «I'm not impressed» look and he sighed again. "I'm not much of a... how do you say, touchy feely? Don't look at me like that, you know me, I've told you!" This time he moved a little closer, and part of him told him he was going to make his biggest mistake. "Besides, I'm a walking ice cube, and you're warm, and with your hair like that you have good chances of catching a cold and-"

"Rottenführer Bergen wouldn't mind to sit closer." Agnes replied, remembering how Herzog had reacted when the Rottenführer had kissed her hand. That was enough to trigger the Standartenführer's possessiveness again and to dispel any remaining doubts about Agnes wanting him around or not. If there was something Herzog couldn't stand was having someone else, especially another officer, around his subordinates, be them soldiers or archaeologists. And Agnes was his, end of story:

"Because he's not a gentleman!" Herzog grumbled angrily and dragged himself closer to the young woman, until their sides were touching. Agnes shivered and the Standartenführer made a face. "I told you you'd be uncomfortable..."

"I'm confortable." The young woman said stubbornly, ignoring the coldness spreading from Herzog's body to hers. The Standartenführer thought she was going to move away sooner or later, though, and decided to enjoy that little moment of closeness:

"What are you doing?" He asked, looking at the screen of her laptop. She had once told him about her laptop, but since she had assured him it had no military purposes, he had lost interest on it:

"Shopping online." Agnes explained. "I have this thing in my laptop, the Internet, and it allows me to shop stuff without leaving my place." And she added, because she knew he was going to ask. "It has no military purposes, Hein..." Of course it could have, and would if Herzog found out how to work with it, but Agnes didn't want him to end up in some weird NATO laboratory... or dead.

"Clever, nonetheless." He commented, visibly disappointed, but he sounded more enthusiastic when he spoke again. "Is it a German invention?"

"American." And she couldn't help but giggle when he growled disapprovingly; that would definitely keep him away from the dangers of computers with Internet. "There, in 5 minutes I bought my stuff. And in a few hours they bring it here." Herzog just grunted and the young woman tried to cease the sudden bad vibes coming from him. "Do you like music?"

"Not American music..." Herzog mumbled, focusing his attention on the tattoos on Agnes' neck. He felt a sudden curiosity and urge of touching them, and the ones on her arms too, and feel those famous scars she had told him about... but maybe he shouldn't do that. Agnes had already opened a YouTube page:

"Horst Wessel Lied*?" She asked, and felt his body tense up. She looked at him; he was frowning, looking at the screen again like it was something particularly disgusting. "Wenn alle untreu werden? Wagner?"

But Herzog said nothing for a while, he just stared at the screen. Then he shook his head, slowly:

"I would like to keep music just like I remember it, thank you." He finally said; the glory of the old days, with flags, battalions parading and military bands, with the German people cheering and the Führer saluting his men. Modern technology, as wonderful as it seemed, couldn't give him that... and he didn't want those memories contamined with whatever Allied propaganda had done with the little world he had lived in. He forced himself to smile and looked at Agnes, only to find comprehension in her eyes. "You could show me yours, though. And explain me why no one else at the orphanage liked it."

"You won't like it." The young woman replied with a sad smile. The Standartenführer made a face and she sighed. "Fine..." She closed the YouTube page and opened her music folder. "You are about to listen to Norway's biggest and most important contribuition for the modern world: Black Metal. Understanding this music is understanding Life!" She glanced at him before clicking «play all». "Are you ready?" Herzog nodded, curious, and Agnes handed him the laptop. "Have fun while I'm going to dry my hair." And she clicked «play all».

While drying her hair in the bathroom, Agnes wondered if that had been a good idea; what would he think of her, that had nothing to do with the music he was used to. She made a face, combing her hair; maybe she should have showed him Neonazi music instead, it was that soft rock everybody listens to and the message was basically the same as the original Nazi music. Unpleasent memories popped in her head, memories of the orphanage, with everybody pointing at her and calling her names. Agnes shook her head, grabbed the crutches and made her way back to the bedroom.

Herzog was still on the mattress with the laptop on his lap, eyes lost and a slight frown, the agressive and grim music filling the silence. Agnes opened the wardrobe and choosed a little metallic box, where she kept her piercing jewelry, from one of the upper shelves, then turned to face the full-lenght mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door:

"You understand what they say?" The Standartenführer asked, looking at her, even though he couldn't see her because the wardrobe door was covering her:

"Yes, it's English. I can speak English. And of course, there are musics in Norwegian." She replied:

"That explains why I don't get a thing." Herzog said, sounding visibly relieved. "It's not different from the way my men and I speak. Growl. Makes them sound feral, interesting."

Agnes peeked from behind the wardrobe door, an ear already full of lobe and orbital piercings:

"So... you like it?" She asked, hopeful. Herzog shrugged, looking at the laptop again:

"It's... audible. This could have been useful for the Gestapo, though..." He chuckled. "Is there anything in German?"

"Give me a minute." And Agnes joined him little later, when she was done with her piercings. Herzog handed her the laptop again and frowned, noticing the two small vertical barbell piercings in her eyebrow; that was demanding to be touched, too! "Let's try Nargaroth, it's a German band. This music** has an English intro, but the rest is in German." The young woman said, unaware of Herzog's sudden change of interest. The Standartenführer finally gathered enough courage to raise a hand and poke the piercings with a finger:

"Yes, I understand this one. Not bad." He commented absently. "Where did you learn to speak German? And English?"

"School." Agnes decided to move her hair behind her ears and give Herzog more things to poke. "I guess music session is over...?"

"What is the point of having this little things all over your ears? Do you know how dangerous this is in a fight?" Herzog asked, examining the piercings. He liked what he saw, though; they made Agnes look... different, from everything he had seen before. Agnes shut down her laptop and allowed herself to enjoy the sudden non-offensive attention:

"I know, I was lucky I didn't have any when the Russian bastards found me." She said. "I like piercings, though. I think them pretty. Almost everybody has them, nowadays." She smiled. "I'm thinking about getting a lip piercing, next."

Herzog opened his mouth to ask «How on Earth can someone kiss you with a metal ring in your lips?», but he refrained himself on time and pretended to be suddenly interested in a lock of her hair; that was none of his bussiness, why should he ask? They had a deal, afterall... she was alive, would be alive for the next 20 years, she could get all the piercings she wanted, meet all the people she wanted... The Standartenführer snarled and moved away, feeling strange, and decided to look at his socks. Black socks with green balls. Beautiful socks. Had everything to do with German aesthetics.

Agnes looked at him, confused, but decided not to ask him about. Instead she moved closer and leaned on him, and it suddenly felt like there was a massive, undestructible ice wall right there. Agnes tried not to shiver with cold and was glad that the tattoos made it difficult to spot the goosebumps:

"Talking about Russians, what's our next move?" She asked. Herzog rose a hairless eyebrow and looked at the small body resting against his arm. He leaned aginst the wall behind him, slowly:

"Our?"

"I'm your invalid archaeologist, remember?"

"You're not invalid!" The dead man relaxed and (he later swore he had no idea of how he did that) wrapped an arm around Agnes' shoulders. She did a good job at pretending she wasn't cold. "Maybe we should clean the area of Russians before doing anything else."

"It's something you can do in the mountains." Agnes agreed, nodding slowly. "You shouldn't show up in the land of the mortals so soon... Everybody is still talking about what happened, in the online news."

"What do they say?"

"That a bunch of psychos dressed as Red Army soldiers attacked and killed innocent people, and that they were leaded by your one-armed thief, that commited suicide."

"I've read censored news better than that!" Herzog grumbled. "But you're right, it would be dangerous to attack again like that. How long do you think the locals will be alert?"

"Until a new and glorious gossip appears. Or just give them some months."

"I must eleminate the local authorities..." The Standartenführer thought. "In fact, I must eleminate everybody..."

"Just... don't get caught, right?"

"We could use some fifth column, are there any National-Socialists left?" He lifted Agnes' chin with his fingers, looking at her in the eye. "Are you a National-Socialist? Is there any Party we could use?"

Agnes decided it was too risky for Herzog and his Einsatzgruppe if they knew about the Neo-Nazi movement, not for the Neo-Nazis, but for the original Nazis; the values of loyalty and beautiful stuff like that they knew and were used to follow blindly were gone, someone could easily betray them if someone paid well enough. She frowned, suddenly aware of how dangerous the world outside could be for unwary zombies, and decided she would do her best to keep Herzog and his Einsatzgruppe within the safe area of the mountains:

"No Hein, we don't have such thing here in Norway anymore. And no, I'm apolitical, I just don't care about that stuff." Herzog was visibly disappointed. "I'm by your side, though!"

The Standartenführer let go her chin, amused with that last sentence, and looked away. They didn't say a word for a while, until Herzog decided to speak again:

"So, what is your music about?" He asked. "Besides mourning, from what I got from the German song."

"War, death, Norse myths and basically all the crap humans do and why they should be eliminated for that." Agnes resumed:

"Sounds... like a slap of truth right in the face." He said, after a while. "Not everyone handles that." He looked at the young woman with a reverent smile. She smiled back:

"You're probably the only person who didn't think me a freak." She said. Herzog's smile grew wider, and Agnes thought about the grinning skull of his officer cap:

"You're probably the only person who didn't scream and tried to run away after seeing me, so seems now we are even." He replied. Agnes just chuckled.

* * *

Agnes had her groceries delivered around lunch time. Herzog had been in a really easy mood, but when he went to take the shopping bags from the small hall to the kitchen and make her lunch, it felt like he had been sleeping in a comfortable hammock and had only waken up because he had fallen from it, face first in the mud; Agnes didn't need a dead man to discuss music with, she needed a living man to help her with the house and the food expenses!

What was he doing, crawling from the puffs to her bed? He was fooling her! Worse, he was fooling himself! What are you looking at, you stupid potato? You shall be peeled alive for that!

The young woman got in the kitchen, unaware of Herzog's evil vengeance on the potatoes, pulled a chair and sat at the table, leaving the crutches on the floor:

"I can do that, it's my lunch afterall!" She said. The Standartenführer startled and glanced over his shoulder, frowning:

"You sneaky little thing!" He hissed. Agnes smiled innocently, but then her smile died:

"Your hand..." She mumbled, and Herzog looked at his hand; the blade of the knife was stuck deep in his thumb and dark blood was dripping from the wound. He shurgged and released the blade with a brusque movement. "Holy-" She started, because the cut was bigger and deeper, but her voice died when Herzog's damaged flesh and skin healed in a matter of seconds. The Standartenführer gave her a grin:

"It's... practical." He said. And he defenitely liked how amazed Agnes looked:

"You have a healing factor, just like Deadpool! That's so cool!" She clapped her hands in excitement. 'Socoolsocoolsocoolsocool!'

But the Standartenführer just frowned, and Agnes was more than happy to discourse about Deadpool and Marvel comics. America's wannabe literature, according to Herzog.

* * *

*Anthem of the Nazi Party from 1930-45

**Seven Tears Are Flowing to the River (Nargaroth), just in case you're wondering

**Weeeeeee, review?**


	15. Chapter 15

**Auhtor's note:** thanks so much for the reviews, favs and follows! :D

* * *

Herzog went back to his little protective shell of introspection for a few days after the adventure of the online shopping. The voice in the back of his mind was nagging him again, telling him he didn't belong there with Agnes, that he wasn't a man anymore, but a monster, and monsters don't live in houses for the very simple reason that monsters don't work, so they don't get paid, and if they don't get paid they can't afford a house, and food... and therefore can't have a family. He had had time for that, time he had wasted being a soldier, an officer... Maybe Erika had done the right thing.

On the other hand, Herzog told himself he couldn't be in the righter place; he could be a dead man, but he was a fully operational dead man, and Agnes needed a man to take care of her. And Agnes was happy, and recovering, and that was thanks to him. And his men were safe in the mountains. And Erika was a disloyal Untermensch and Herzog deserved better than that.

In fact, he had already found it.

He had been with Agnes for a month. That night he was decided to shut up the little annoying voice once and for all, so he stood up from the puffs and made his way to Agnes' inflatable mattress. It was already past mid-night, he knew she was fast asleep. Herzog sat at the edge of the mattress, telling himself he wasn't going to do anything wrong, that Agnes wouldn't mind. Besides that was all her fault, she was making him a touchy feely, cuddly man. And he was utterly curious to finally find out how was the feeling of having someone sleeping that close.

So he laid on his side and carefully dragged himself closer to Agnes, facing her back. She was still sleeping, undisturbed.

_Don't do that, haven't you learn that the Present is just that, Present? You don't know the Future, she isn't exactly yours!_, the little voice hissed. Herzog growled lowly and wrapped an arm around Agnes' waist, and rested his head on the pillow after making sure he wouldn't pull her hair. _Shut up!_, he told the voice,_ I do what I want, remember? All I had was a moment of exhaution and weakness, but I won't allow you to take over my sanity! She's mine, otherwise she wouldn't have came back!_

The voice seemed convinced by Herzog's logical arguments. With a satisfied grunt, the Standartenführer closed his eyes.

His victory didn't last long, though, and his wounded pride made itself noticeable by telling Herzog anyone could sleep on the same bed of someone who was already asleep. Herzog widened his eyes and didn't think twice before turning around, reaching out for Agnes' flashlight, on the floor next to the mattress, and turn again towards her:

"Agnes." He called, shaking her mercilessly by the shoulder and turning the flashlight on. The young woman sighed and looked over her shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut:

"Waking me up with a flashlight is something I expected from Sascha, not from you!" She grumbled, turning around to face him. Herzog pointed the light to the ceiling and she opened one sleepy eye. "What do you want...?"

"Would you give me the honour of sleeping in the same bed as you?" He asked, determined. Agnes opened her other eye and blinked, slowly, then widened her eyes, finally realising Herzog wasn't kneeling on the floor or something like that. His big cold body was right there. She frowned; something serious must have happened to move him from the respectable distance of the puffs to her mattress.

She studied his tense face, badly illuminated by the flashlight, and concluded that had something to do with one of his internal struggles; she would like him to tell her about those, but one of the first things she had understood about Herzog was that he didn't like to be asked things, so she preferred to be patient and let him have his time, then tell her about that.

Agnes sighed; she had been hired by a Nazi zombie, she had been in a Nazi zombie march and battle, she had been nursed back to health by a Nazi zombie... so there wasn't really a problem in having a Nazi zombie sleeping on the same mattress as her, right? Besides, the young woman knew that had to be very important to Herzog, and now she was curious to find out what was so fascinating about people sleeping together:

"Fine. Just don't take the blankets and the pillow all for yourself, right?" She said, making herself comfortable again. "And turn off the damn light, I want to sleep..."

The awe in Herzog's face was priceless. He turned the light off and threw the flashlight somewhere:

"I need no blankets..." He replied, and rested his head on the pillow again. Agnes just grumbled something, already falling asleep.

He took a while to just stare at her in the dark, feeling ridiculous for finding her sleeping face so fascinating. And his wounded pride suddenly didn't feel so wounded. The Standartenführer moved a little closer, until he felt her warm breath against his neck, and made a note to self to don't breath; he didn't want to disturb her. Then, he carefully wrapped an arm around her and closed his eyes.

* * *

Agnes felt something heavy and cold around her, yet she didn't feel uncomfortable-cold. She was just... cold. And there was also a cold breathing against her face. She opened her eyes to find Herzog's head right there. Such a big and massive head! But at least he had kept his word about not occupying the whole pillow.

He was sleeping deeply, Agnes had never seen him sleeping. She knew he did it when he was bored or didn't want to read, or think, or just to pass the time, but she could never imagine he looked that peaceful, too peaceful for a dead Nazi officer.

Agnes noticed that the scar across his eye wasn't actually a fresh scar, but a wound. And it looked painful, just like the slash on his face. She moved a little closer, suddenly having the impression that Herzog was too big and too detailed to be seen at once, with too many contrasts of dark and light, like some Romantic paintings. For example, the dark circles around his eyes were so dark she couldn't tell if he actually had eyelashes or not. He looked old if someone focused on the wrinkles in the eyes area, but on the other hand the sharp cheekbones and strong jaw made him younger. The Standartenführer breathed heavily and the air passing through the exposed teeth of his lower jaw sounded like a series of painful hisses.

The young woman managed to look away from his face and noticed his arm wrapped around her; that explained the heavy and cold something. She just smiled before the unspoken possessiveness of the gesture and noticed a few more scars on his arm, some of them disappearing under the fabric of the t-shirt sleeve. Agnes immediately plotted an evil plan to give Herzog a tank-top, so that she could have a better look on such an interesting archaeological artefact. From his arm, her eyes moved to his neck, and she saw part of a small chain around his neck, almost invisible on his greyish skin and hiding under the t-shirt. She was suddenly curious to take a look at his dog tag and SS-Ehrenring.

He was still sleeping, undisturbed, and Agnes thought about waking him up, because he never hesitated in waking her up. But he looked... cute, and that big and heavy arm around her made her feel cozy. So, instead of waking him up, Agnes moved even closer and rested her head against his chest, trying the odd sensation of feeling his chest rise and fall while he breathed but hearing nor feeling his heartbeat.

Herzog growled lowly in his sleep and tightened his grip around Agnes, who found her small body being smashed in a freezing iron grip:

"That's it, wake up!" She yelped as her ribacge stung. Herzog grumbled something and nestled his head on the crook of her neck. Or tried too, his head was too big. Agnes giggled and punched his chest, trying to make him wake up. "Hein, come on! You're smashing me!"

He let out a sleepy 'Hmm?', and the grip around Agnes lost some pressure. He moved his head back to the pillow and opened one lazy blue eye, to be greeted with Agnes' smile:

"Who'd say you're so cute?" She giggled. Herzog just shrugged and closed his eye again:

"Schlaf, mein Schatz." (Sleep, my darling.) He mumbled. But then he widened his eyes, realising what he had just said, and changed to a sitting position, half-dragging Agnes with him, who ended up lying on a strange angle across his legs:

"That is actually a good idea!" She agreed, laughing, pretending to ignore what he had just called her.

Herzog just blinked his eyes, confused at first, but he relaxed slowly as he understood she wasn't angry at him or offended. He allowed himself to smile and lay down again, and Agnes moved back to her original place, at his side:

"So, shall I declare this the day off of exercises and intelectual activities such as reading and discussing music and arts and architecture and History?" She asked, clapping her hands enthusiastically. Herzog considered that, it seemed tempting to just stay there...

But officers don't just «stay there»...

But he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt with a yellow smiley, that inspired zero authority. So, if no one else would obey him, why should he obey himself?

Herzog looked at Agnes, at her huge smile, and she was already wrapped in the blankets again. He chuckled and shook his head:

"Fine... but I'm getting you some sandwiches first."

"I'd do my victory dance, but you know... blankets." Agnes chirped happily.

* * *

Sascha sat heavily on the snow and hid his face on his hands. For brief moments all he felt was the wind howling around him, not far from the cave on the top of the mountain. He felt exhausted, and wondered if it was normal for a living-dead man to feel like that. He also wondered if Herzog had ever been through that too, and if so, how the heck had he managed through it all, keeping that bloody poker-face of his for the whole time.

Then he felt someone sitting next to him, and he didn't need to look to know who it was. With a grunt, he rested his head on Fritz's shoulder and uncovered his face:

"I'm so fucking tired... so fucking tired..." He whispered. "I had no idea commanding a bunch of idiots was like this! It was easier when we were in Poland, how come that it became so difficult?"

"You're doing well." Fritz assured, unfastening the chinstrap of Sascha's helmet to remove it, and then getting rid of his own helmet. "It's just that now we're more than in Poland, and Herzog isn't here to make sure everybody behaves."

"Maybe that was why Herzog didn't get me in the Officers Course..." Sascha mumbled sadly, wrapping his arms around himself. "Maybe he knew I wasn't ready, afterall..."

"He got stupid, that's why."

Sascha said nothing, just spitted blood on the snow and watched the contrast of the dark blood on the white snow. The wind became stronger and the snow began to fall furiously. He looked around, from the grey sky to the whiteness of the mountains surrounding them, and sighed, nestling his head on Fritz's shoulder:

"He's been gone for how long?" He asked, because Fritz had been counting the days since they had kicked out Herzog:

"A month and a day."

"Do you think he's fine?" Sascha moved away, frowning, an anguished expression on his face. "Do you think something happened to him? I'll never forgive myself if I got him into troubles!"

"He's fine." Even though he wasn't sure of it, Fritz smiled. "I'm sure he found Agnes. And if something bad had happened, we wouldn't be here anymore..."

"You got a point..." The blue-eyed zombie agreed, nodding slowly. He sighed again and turned his head to look at his comrade. "He's fine, isn't he? Herzog is all big and scary... no one would mess up with him, right?"

"Right."

Sascha nodded again, pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. Fritz did the same and they both stayed in silence for a while, listening to the wind while the snow pilled around them:

"Maybe I should have insisted with him... that day." Sascha mumbled, not looking at Fritz, but he felt the other's brown eyes on him. "I'm sure he must have felt lonely and exhausted many times..." He looked at Fritz and their eyes met, and Sascha looked guilty. "Commanding is difficult, afterall. Now I feel like I abandoned him..." He looked away again. "I just want to curl up and sleep, I'm sick of them. That stupid Bergen, the Doctor and the Wehrmacht guys, to be precise..."

"Bergen is jealous, and we can always kill the Doctor and then ask Herzog to revive him again. Or we could cut off his tongue!" Fritz smiled, enthusiastic, but Sascha just grumbled something. "And the Wehrmacht guys... well, that's the Wehrmacht. What are those peasants compared to us, the SS?"

"A fucking massive headache!" Sascha made a snowball and threw it away, angry. "Fucking fuckers..."

Fritz said nothing, just stared at the snow before him. A few minutes later he heard Sascha chuckle with a gurgling sound and looked at him, to see him smile sadly, showing his bloodstained teeth:

"How can you put up with me?" He asked, and looked older than what he was. Fritz just shrugged and blushed:

"It's no big deal..."

"You and Herzog, you both put up with me! And I'm so annoying! Holy shit, if I was an officer and had a soldier me in my company, I'd shoot down my soldier self!" He laughed sadly, shaking his head, and cursed when Fritz slapped the back of his head:

"Your brain froze, too. Shut up." The younger soldier grunted, and slapped his comrade's blonde head again just for the sake of it.

They went quiet for a while, looking at the landscape ahead. Sascha sighed and laid on his back, stretching out his arms and legs. Fritz looked at him and felt his frozen cheeks heat up a little:

"You don't feel lonely, do you?" He asked quietly. Sascha made a face:

"That's impossible, having you around!"

"Does it annoy you?"

"Don't you even dare to try and leave me for 5 minutes..." The blue-eyed zombie smiled and punched Fritz's arm playfully. But then his smile died as he studyied his comrade's face, frostbitten and darkened by the ice. He changed to a sitting position again and moved closer to Fritz. "Do you remember that talk we had?"

"We had many..." The younger soldier replied, even though he knew exactly which one Sascha was referring to. Sascha knew he knew, and frowned. Fritz smiled innocently. "I do."

"Do you think we actually killed that little bastard?" And Sascha laughed sadly. Fritz's smile became sad too:

"Don't call a feeling «bastard»..." He mumbled, and shrugged. "I guess we did, and buried it deep."

"Do you think it's still there, in its grave?" The sudden urgency and embarassment in Sascha's growling voice made the younger soldier smile widely:

"No, I think it crawled all the way out of its grave and came after us, to haunt us. At least it haunts me."

"The little bastard, it haunts me too!" Sascha smiled again, happily, and felt his eyes sting. For a moment, he expected to feel tears, or to see tears in Fritz's eyes, but there were things they couldn't do anymore. "I thought living-dead soldiers couldn't be haunted..."

"I thought there was no such thing as «living-dead», so we're both wrong."

They laughed nervously and looked around, to check if they were still alone, and Sascha moved even closer to Fritz. But the younger soldier shook his head:

"It's not a good idea..." He said:

"First: all my ideas are great and glorious and most likely to work. Second: you don't sound convincing enough."

"It's not a good idea!" Fritz repeated, and to make himself clear he shoved a handfull of snow into Sascha's mouth and stood up, as his comrade coughed snow and blood and cursed. Sascha stood up too, picked up their helmets and threw Fritz's at his comrade's face. Fritz caught it easily and covered his head with it:

"You owe me a kiss." Sascha said, shaking the snow off his uniform and walking away, to the cave. Fritz trotted after him:

"Just one?"

"Don't try me, young man..."

"you sound like Herzog, sometimes."

They made their way to the cave, pushing and kicking and punching each other. When they reached the cave the Einsatzgruppe and the SS troops were already there. The Doctor was still tied to the rock and had given up on ranting about Sascha. Rottenführer Bergen and his Panzer crew were there too. Sascha and Fritz stopped playing and Sascha smoothed his uniform the best he could:

"The Wehrmacht guys?" He asked the other zombies:

"Already in the cave." One of the SS soldiers informed. "They say they won't leave tomorrow if you don't find them something interesting to do. They want to attack."

"Fuck them, I'm not attacking before Herzog comes back." Sascha grumbled:

"That is quite reasonable." Rottenführer Bergen commented. Sascha ignored him:

"There is a group of campers on the eastern slope." Dietrich informed excitedly, feeling useful. "We could kill those!" And the other zombies nodded approvingly:

"We are not killing anyone." Sascha growled and Fritz nodded:

"But if this is out territory, I think we should defend it." Rottenführer Bergen opined, and everybody cheered. Sascha made a snowball and threw it at the Rottenführer's face:

"We are not attacking anyone. After what happened, I think Herzog wouldn't want to attack again so soon for security reasons. We don't need the peasants to chase us in the mountains. Again." He added, bitterly. The Einsatzgruppe soldiers looked at each other, nodding:

"But they are Untermenschen! I think we should kill them if they get any closer to the cave." Rottenführer Bergen said stubbornly:

"Sounds reasonable!" One of the Einsatzgruppe soldiers agreed, and they all looked at Sascha.

The blue-eyed zombie tensed up; they were all right, the local peasants existed just to be killed, the dead soldiers wanted a revenge... but he was right too, he knew he was thinking like Herzog! Security first! He already knew how tough it was to command many men, he didn't want to know what was like to feel guilty for the death of the men he was in charge of:

"Agree, but tell them if we kill them, we have to make it look like an accident." Fritz whispered, next to him:

"Fine, we kill the campists if they get any closer." Sascha agreed. The troops cheered and he had to raise his voice. "But it has to look like an accident!"

"We can choke them with snow!" Dietrich chirped happily:

"We can bury them alive!" Michael exclaimed, his only eye shining with contentment. Sascha sighed:

"Whatever. Now, cave." He ordered.

Sascha and Fritz waited outside as the noisy SS troops made their way into the cave, counting the soldiers to make sure no one was missing. When they were finally alone outside, Sascha turned around to face Fritz and wrapped his arms around him, strongly:

"Danke..." He sighed, allowing himself to close is eyes for brief moments.

* * *

**Weeeeee, review?**


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's note: **big chapter is big! :D And thank you so much for the reviews, and favs, and follows!

* * *

"So?" Agnes asked as she and Herzog finished the Monty Python marathon, that lasted the whole day. Herzog blinked slowly, watching as she shut down her laptop, then frowned:

"That made me a serious brain damage... And there's the echo of that really annoying British accent in my ears..." He said and looked at her. Agnes felt like her face was too small for her smile:

"Wasn't it fun?"

"This is fun!" Herzog replied, poking her sides. She squealed and hid under the blankets:

"Come on, you liked it! I saw you smirking during the 'Funniest Joke' sketch!" She tried again, peeking from her soft fortress. Herzog just rolled his eyes and put her laptop on the floor, near the mattress:

"People always pick on the Germans, then get really annoyed when they are invaded." Herzog grumbled and stood up. "The fake Führer's campaing was funny, though... except for the speech part."

"Germans are actually the least funny people..." Agnes concluded, kicked the blankets away and stretched her hands towards Herzog. He frowned:

"You have your crutches right there..."

"I'm going to work in a few weeks, I don't want the crutches."

"It's too soon to leave them!"

"My knee is fine! Hein, come on!"

The Standartenführer sighed patiently and made his way to her side of the mattress, then held her hands:

"Careful." He said when she used both legs to stand up. Her injured knee buckled and she would have fallen if his arms and broad chest weren't there to catch her. "You know that leg lost muscle and strenght in spite of the exercises, right?" And Agnes replied something, her words muffled against his chest.

They eventually made it to the kitchen, Herzog walking backwards, slowly and patiently, while Agnes held his hands firmly and followed him with clumsy steps and an accentuated limping in her injured leg. They reached the table in the middle of the kitchen and Herzog pulled a chair for Agnes:

"It wasn't that bad!" She exclaimed, sitting, and added before Herzog could ask. "No pain. Really. It's good as new."

"I hope so..." Herzog replied and turned around to open the fridge. "What do you want to eat?"

"Pizza!" Agnes exclaimed happily and the Standartenführer picked up a ready-made pizza from the fridge. "Just curious, have you ever eaten pizza?"

"I did. In... 1933." He told and put the pizza on a dish to go to the oven. "Not very fond of it. I prefer the good German food. And I don't really like Italians, they are useless and the worse allies you can have..."

Agnes just rolled her eyes and looked outside. It was night, maybe it was already 10 p.m.. Herzog put the pizza in the oven and made his way to the window to close the blinds, then joined Agnes at the table.

That night Herzog found himself thinking again, while tracing the tattoos on Agnes' arms and neck with a finger; he already knew the barbed wire drawings by heart, and the scars hidden under the ink. The young woman was going to start working soon, which meant he had to go back to the cave, back to his soldiers.

_I don't want to go without her._, Herzog concluded and wrapped his arm around Agnes' waist. He had done that before, devoting himself to Erika and then leaving... only to find nothing when he came back. He didn't want to go through that again, even though he trusted Agnes. But she was young, she could change.

Herzog didn't want that.

He realised his fingers were now curled around her neck, just waiting for his command to tighten. Her neck was so delicate and his hand so big, she wouldn't even notice, she wouldn't feel pain or discomfort. And she wouldn't mind.

But the Standartenführer moved his hand away, like her neck had burned him, and put some distance between their bodies, his eyes wide and his breath stuck in his chest; he couldn't do that, they had a deal! He could have tortured and killed many innocent people, but he had never withdrawn his word! If he did that, he would be just like the creatures he hated and despised!:

"Hein?" Agnes called, interrupting his thoughts. She was facing him and he could see her eyes shine in the dimness of the room. "Is anything wrong?"

"I... I was just thinking..." He mumbled, moving slowly to his original place. Agnes rested her head on his arm while his other hand moved away a few locks of hair from her face:

"You haven't been thinking these last nights. What's wrong?"

"I'm a selfish greedy bastard." The Standartenführer replied, looking away from her and resting his hand on her shoulder. "Just... go back to sleep."

"I will, if you go back to sleep too."

"Fine..."

"Fine..." Agnes repeated and Herzog smirked, closing his eyes. But he couldn't sleep, and found himself looking for something in his memories that could help him, something from a book he had read, or a music he had listened to, or a painting, or a sculpture, anything that could quiet him for a while. He finally remembered; Horace, Odes, book 1. He was 23 when he read it and thought the expression 'carpe diem' disgusting and without moral, and had quickly finished the Odes to start reading something more Germanic, more instructive... like Parsifal. However, now it sounded like the meaning of life after death, and he liked it, but at the same time he didn't, it was still feeling wrong.

He shook Agnes by the shoulder and she let out a suffering sigh:

"Yes, Hein..." She mumbled, opening one eye. He seemed worried:

"Have you ever read Horace's Odes, book 1?" The Standartenführer asked. She frowned:

"No..."

"Have you ever heard the expression 'carpe diem'?"

"No..." And she smiled before his utterly disappointed face. "What does it mean?"

"Seize the day." He replied, like it was something absolutely horrible to say out loud. Agnes opened her other eye and spent a moment in silence, looking at the dead Nazi officer. Very cultured dead Nazi officer. Maybe too cultured for his own good. She sighed patiently and rested a hand on his freezing cheek:

"There's is nothing wrong in enjoying the present moments, Sir Gawain..." She assured, because he clearly had a problem with enjoying and having fun.

Herzog seemed pleased with the compliment, although he didn't seem convinced with the 'carpe diem'. But Agnes said it wasn't wrong, so it couldn't be wrong. Or at least completely wrong. Right? With a content grunt, Herzog made himself comfortable and closed his eyes to sleep a little.

* * *

"Just keep them faceplant in the snow, are we understood?" Sascha asked. The others nodded, enthusiastic, and took their positions to ambush the unwary campists, who were making their way up the mountain. 100 men against 10 campists was absurd, but Sascha knew he had no other choice than bringing everybody.

When the campists reached the small wood of dead trees, the zombie troops emerged from the snow and attacked them from behind, forcing the campists to fall and then pressing their faces in the snow. Some didn't even notice what happened, others wriggled and tried to fight back. The one Sascha caught and was sharing with other 5 soldiers was offering some resistance, in spite of Sascha's hands on his head, pressing it against the snow, and the other zombies holding him in place.

It didn't take long, though, and soon the group of campists was finished. Sascha allowed himself to smile; that had actually gone well! But his smile died as soon as one of the Wehrmacht soldiers said:

"There's one running down!"

"Get him, Fritz!" Sascha commanded, before everybody decided to go after the survivor and make a gore fest. Fritz ran after the campist who had stayed behind and watched in sheer horror what happened to his friends, and since the zombie soldier didn't get tired he managed to catch the poor campist a few meters away from the ambush place.

But the campist had a knife, and Fritz wasn't counting on that, and he widened his eyes in surprise when he saw the blade coming to his neck. Caught off guard, Fritz didn't even had the time to think about defending himself, and the knife cut deep through his neck. His dead body fell at the campist's feet, who just stood there, horrified, looking from the bloody knife to the Nazi corpse.

Sascha, watching at distance with the others, widened his eyes and gaped. He heard the other soldiers growl and even noticed them starting to move, by the corner of his eye. What he didn't notice was that he was already running towards the man, way ahead of everyone else.

Instead of running, the campist tried to fight back again, so he rose the knife above his head, thinking that Sascha would just bump on him to make him fall, giving him the chance to stab him the back or neck. But Sascha knew better; he had been given the honour, many years ago, to be the glorious opponent of a really bored Herzog who had waken up in the mood for a good hand-to-hand combat. And that day Sascha had learned a lot, especially that the ground is hard.

So he just punched the campist in the stomach, using the impulse of the run to put all his strenght in his fist. The man bent forwards, breathless, and the blue-eyed zombie pushed him to the ground and pressed his head against the snow, watching in complete silence as the campist suffocated.

When the wriggling body immobilized Sascha let it go, like it was a really disgusting thing. He looked at the rest of the troops, some still with the other campists, the others halfway. Then his eyes moved and fixed on Fritz's lifeless body, and when he noticed he was kneeling next to his comrade. Sascha shook his head, slowly, and seized Fritz carefully; that was all his fault, he should have told someone else to go:

"Go to your posts." He told the others as he started to walk back to the cave. Much for his relief, no one said a word and no one followed him.

He ignored the Doctor, who asked him what had happened, and made his way to the other side of the snow-covered cave, a relatively quiet place. He kneeled on the snow and laid Fritz's body next to him, and smiled sadly:

"My little sadistic bastard; I told you to don't even dare to leave me for 5 minutes... and you do this to me!" He exclaimed, taking a better look at the mortal wound in Fritz's neck. Sascha grimaced; his comrade looked... loathsome, frozen and lifeless, definitely a creature he wouldn't like to meet face to face. Yet when moving, and talking, and smiling, and laughing, Fritz didn't look such a headious creature. He looked human, he looked exactly like he had always looked like. Sascha sighed and started to dig a grave with his hands. "I can't miss you this much, right? I mean, you're not... dead. Well, now you are, but once Herzog is back you'll be fine... right?" He stopped digging and looked at the dead body, then frowned. "Fuck you, I already miss you, it feels like we haven't seen each other in years! Did you feel like this too when you watched me dying?" He had no answer, and that made him laugh nervously. "You know Fritz, I'm glad we can't cry. Otherwise I'd be crying a fucking river..."

He digged the grave and dragged Fritz into it, then closed his eyelids.

* * *

_Sascha liked Fritz the moment Herzog shoved the younger soldier in the room; he had the look of an innofensive lamb, but was a wolf as big as Sascha. And Sascha felt like he couldn't thank Herzog enough for giving him his lost evil twin. __Together they plotted the most glorious pranks, told the funniest jokes, made the most epic puns. They were murderers of military discipline and nerve-wreckers of unwary officers who tried to nose around the Einsatzgruppe's business. Sascha and Fritz were the master artists of comedy and Herzog was their maecenas._

_Sascha didn't even question all the feelings that came next, because it felt like they belonged there; Fritz was his best friend, his dearest comrade, so for Sascha it was completely natural to care for him, to go wherever he went and having Fritz coming with him wherever he went, it felt natural to comb his hair just to mess it again and to pick on him because he was smaller and only 18 years old, while Sascha was already 20. __When the Einsatzgruppe had to split in a mission Sascha wanted Fritz to go with Herzog, thinking that the brown-eyed soldier would be safer there. He would never forgive himself if he ever let something happen to Fritz. Sometimes he would think that what he felt was maybe a little too much, and that he should talk to Herzog and ask him for advice... but everytime he came to that conclusion he thought the Standartenführer was going to be disappointed with him, or really angry, and Sascha didn't want to lose the friendship between him and Herzog. So he decided not to tell anyone about his feelings, not even Fritz._

_There was a night Sascha suggested they should do something about the poor Wehrmacht soldier who was guarding the main vehicle deposit in Warsaw, who looked like he was dying of boredom, and Fritz had the brilliant idea of writing a fake marching order. Such a masterpiece of a prank needed better planning, so the two soldiers ran upstairs, to Sascha's hotel room, and locked the door to discuss properly. And Fritz's idea was to actually plan a glorious prank, but Sascha, overwhelmed by happiness and excitement, decided they could do that some other time and kissed the younger soldier._

_He had never kissed someone before, had no idea of what he was doing, but that night seemed the perfect time to find out, and Fritz was certainly the right person to help him. Even because the smaller soldier did nothing to stop him... And when Sascha noticed they had already fallen on the bed and their uniform jackets and ties were nowhere to be seen:_

_"Do you have any idea of what we are doing?" Fritz asked suddenly, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Sascha offered him his best innocent smile and shook his head, slowly:_

_"Do you think that if I knew any of this I'd have drooled you like that?" He asked, but instead of laughing Fritz pouted. Sascha's smile died and his expression became serious. He rolled from over Fritz's body to his side and caressed his cheek, the most affectionate gesture Sascha had ever made, besides punching his comrade's shoulder. "I'm stupid, you should be used to that by now... but Fritz," He kissed him again. "I really mean this." And the pout vanished from Fritz's lips._

_When Sascha woke up the next morning and found Fritz still sleeping on his arms, he felt the happiest man alive. He had a few minutes to admire the younger soldier before someone unlocked the door and came in, and when that happened Sascha felt like someone had pulled the carpet from under his feet... and when he saw Herzog looking at him and Fritz with big, wide blue eyes, he felt like someone had opened a hole on the ground where he had fallen and he was falling again. That was the first time Sascha was actually afraid of someone; afraid that Herzog could do something to Fritz, afraid that the friendship between him and the Standartenführer was lost. It only became worse when Fritz woke up and began to cry in panick, leaving the tough guy role for Sascha. And if he wasn't representing it very well, he totally screwed up when Herzog mentioned his girlfriend; Sascha didn't like her, he didn't even remember about her, she had no importance! And because she had no importance and no place in his memory, he hadn't tell Fritz about her._

_The disappointment and sadness and anger in that pair of brown eyes was too much, let alone the similar feelings he saw in Herzog's blue eyes. When the Standartenführer left the room, Fritz jumped away from Sascha and started to get dressed:_

_"I had no idea Herzog had copies of the keys!" Sascha tried to explain himself. "And about my supposed girlfriend... I don't even like her! Fritz, look at me... Fritz!" But the younger soldier was gone, slamming the door after him. The blue-eyed soldier got dressed too and ran after his comrade. He didn't feel surprised when he tried to get in Fritz's room and found the door locked, so all he could do was knocking. But no one answered, even though Sascha heard the younger soldier sob inside the room. Defeated, Sascha went back to his room, closed the door and let his body slip to the floor. He pulled his own hair; there, he had ruined everything! He had hurted the two people he cared for the most. He had made Fritz cry, he had turned something that was supposed to be special into something horrible. Sascha felt his eyes sting, yet he fought the urge of crying; he didn't like crying, that was useless and solved nothing. Herzog never cried, so Sascha didn't want to cry too._

_But he eventually broke and cried silently, angry with himself and suddenly terrified that Fritz would never want to talk to him again and that Herzog could do something. He didn't mind if he ended up in Dachau, he deserved that and there were many officers who would be really happy to see him there. But the thought that the same thing could happen to Fritz, to what the Gestapo could do to him... that really scared Sascha._

_He managed to pull himself together and leave the room; he needed to talk to Herzog, beg his pardon, assure Fritz's safety. He didn't find any of his other comrades, so he supposed everybody was downstairs eating breakfast. He just hoped Herzog was in his room. Sascha noticed his hand was shaking when he knocked at the Standartenführer's door, and that the mere seconds he had to wait to be told to get in felt like a painful eternity._

_That was probably the most embarassing talk he ever had with someone, but Herzog was just upset because Sascha hadn't trusted him. It actually made the young soldier feel weightless, and that he couldn't thank Herzog enough. And that definetily he wanted to be an officer just like Herzog. Helping the Standartenführer to chase the rat that was in his room helped Sascha to cheer up, and burning the hotel down after killing the owners helped too._

_They moved to a house, out of the city, and Sascha understood that Herzog had done that to avoid any other incidents. The blue-eyed soldier took it as a good sign when he left his backbag near Fritz's and the younger soldier didn't move to another room of the house, and that Fritz would stay next to him when they were all gathered to play cards or sing or demand Herzog a good story from the trenches or from the many books he had read. Even if the younger soldier didn't talk or look at him, just his presence was enough to assure Sascha that he hadn't ruined everything. Maybe he had just blown off the roof..._

_So he left Fritz alone for a week, and during a rainy day and taking the chance that everybody was too busy building little castles with ammo and grenades, Sascha grabbed Fritz by the wrist and took him to the attick of the house. The younger soldier didn't protest and sat quietly on the floor while Sascha closed the trapdoor:_

_"So... about what happened..." Sascha started, sitting in front of him and biting his lower lip nervously. "I... I really wanted it to be special for you..."_

_"You have a girlfriend." Fritz accused, and was that jealously in his voice? Sascha shook his head:_

_"I don't like her, it was my mother's idea! She wants me to marry that spoiled brat because she has money!" Fritz raised an eyebrow. "And I'm really going to marry and then ask for the divorce in the same day! Then everybody will hate me and they'll all leave me alone once and for all!"_

_"You're insane!" Fritz exclaimed with disbelief. This time Sascha smiled and took Fritz's hands on his:_

_"And once we win the war, we could buy a little house for the two of us! Two veterans living together, nobody would question that with that PTSD thing going on."_

_"You are insane." The brown-eyed soldier repeated, even though he didn't seem as convincing as before. Sascha's smile grew wider:_

_"I really mean what happened between us." He assured. "I'm just... I'm just a simpleton with a machine-gun and a pretty uniform, I can't even tell you decently how much I like you... how much I care for you..." Sascha's smile died. "I even considered borrowing some of Herzog's books to learn nice things to tell you, but those are just too many books and the books are too big!"_

_And Fritz laughed, and Sascha understood he was forgiven. He allowed himself to smile, relieved, and pulled Fritz to a hug. They stayed like that for a while, listening to the rain outside, until the younger soldier pulled away, his face serious again:_

_"What did Herzog say... about us?" He asked shyly:_

_"That I should have told him... He's not angry, though... He's a great man. But..." Sascha bit his lower lip again, and felt suddenly anguished; he hadn't planned that, he just knew they had to do it. "... we can't... you know..."_

_"I get it..." Fritz sighed sadly and nodded:_

_"So... «Here lies...»?"_

_"May Týr bless His soul..."_

_"Týr is the god of war, you retarded..." And they both laughed, or forced themselves to laugh, because none of them wanted to cry. They stood up and Sascha opened the trapdoor again. "I guess we can always pick this up, once we smash the enemy."_

_"I guess so." Fritz agreed, looking down at his boots._

_Somehow they managed to act like nothing had happened. Sascha couldn't really understand how, so he concluded Fritz and he were just too awesome to be explained. His feelings were there, though, and sometimes he would wonder if Fritz's were there too._

_Some weeks before their 3 months leave Herzog commented with Sascha that he was planning to go to his little home-village. Sascha had no idea of what to do during the leave; being in a place where he didn't have to fight or carry weapons suddenly seemed too boring, so he hurried to have everybody's adresses so that they could play football together. Luckily, most of the Einsatzgruppe soldiers lived in Berlin._

_When they arrived to Berlin and the group split in different directions, Sascha found himself taking the longer way home just for the pleasure of being outside for a little longer; his parents sometimes could be really annoying and overprotective, and they somehow had missed the part that Sascha was a competent soldier of the Waffen-SS, and not everyone could join the SS. As soon as Sascha stepped in his parent's apartment they both hugged him and kissed him and asked too many things and said that his cousins were visiting and that his leave was the perfect occasion for a good family-time._

_One day after his arrival Sascha left the house, going straight to the SS barracks of Berlin. He was wearing civilian clothes, and after so much time with a uniform and boots he really hated those civilian clothes and shoes. He wondered how Herzog would look like in civilian clothes, but that was a very difficult thing to imagine, even for someone as creative as Sascha. When he reached the barracks he showed his ID and dog tag and said he was going to meet Standartenführer Herzog, and the sentinel let him in. Sascha knew where was Herzog's dorm, he had been there once with the Standartenführer before they left to Moravia. So he crossed the large yard and headed to the southern dormitories, exclusive for the officers, and climbed the stairs to the last floor. Herzog's room was the last one in the long corridor. He knocked at the door and got in, expecting to find Herzog doing exercise, or reading, or sleeping, or leaving paperwork aside for him._

_The last thing he expected was to find Herzog like that, lying fully dressed, curled up and with his head hidden under the pillow. Sascha frowned:_

_"Herr Standartenführer?" He called, but the officer didn't react. Sascha began to feel nervous and made his way towards the bed, where he sat near the Standartenführer's big body. "Herzog?"_

_Herzog turned around to face him and uncovered his head. Sascha frowned again:_

_"What happened to make you cry this hard?" He asked, truely concerned. He watched as Herzog's blue, reddened and puffy eyes filled with tears again and tried not to panick; maybe Herzog had gone to visit his family and had found they were dead... "Herzog, you're scaring me! What happened? Please, tell me! You know you can trust me, right? We're comrades and friends!"_

_And Sascha watched as the officer opened his mouth to talk, despair written all over his face... but Herzog said nothing. A few lonely tears rolled down Herzog's face, and the young soldier frowned lightly as the Standartenführer's face slowly ran out of emotions:_

_"Herzog..." Sascha begged. "Herzog, talk to me. Whatever happened... come on, you can tell me!" But Herzog just looked at him. Then the Standartenführer stood up and walked to the full-lenght mirror on the wall:_

_"I'm fine, Sascha." He mumbled. But even his voice was changed, sounding deeper. The young soldier observed his officer look himself in the mirror and grimace, and he then undressed his uniform jacket and shirt._

_Sascha had no idea why Herzog was still grimacing; not every 42 years old man had a body like that, let alone the officers of that age, who usually became too fat or too skinny. He sighed:_

_"Herzog...?" He called again, quietly. "Do you want to talk about it?"_

_"There is nothing to talk about." Herzog replied and turned away from the mirror to look at Sascha. Herzog's face was now completely blank, but what disturbed Sascha the most was that pair of blue eyes, so intense, so empty. He nodded and left._

_From the barracks he went straight to Fritz's house, at the other side of the city. Fritz lived with his mother and younger sister; his mother was very young and was really pleased in meeting him:_

_"He's always talking about you." She said after they had talked a little in the living-room. "He's in the bedroom, come with me."_

_He followed Fritz's mother into the house and she left him at Fritz's door. He got in the room; it was small and had two beds, one for Fritz and one for his little sister. Fritz was lying on the bed, reading a magazine, but as he noticed the older soldier at the door he put the magazine aside and changed to a sitting position:_

_"I thought you'd come yesterday." He said. Sascha got in the room and sat next to him in the bed. "Why so serious, what's wrong?"_

_"Something happened to Herzog, but he didn't tell me what." Sascha mumbled and crossed his arms. "I went to see him a while ago. I'll have to baby-sit my cousins and I thought that, since Herzog doesn't have a family, I could invite him to come with us to the Zoo. You'd come with us too, of course..."_

_"And let me see, he declined your offering... Herzog and children, really?" Fritz said with a smirk. But Sascha made a face:_

_"He cried for the whole night! I'm telling you, something happened to him yesterday, but he didn't want to tell me what! He was acting so weird, like he wanted, but at the same time he didn't want to tell me!"_

_"Maybe it's something embarassing." Fritz suggested, crossing his legs:_

_"Embarassing? Fritz, he caught us in bed! How come that he doesn't want to tell me what's bothering him?" Sascha said, utterly indignated. He felt hurt, and betrayed, and abandoned. And useless. The brown-eyed soldier frowned lightly and rested a hand on his shoulder:_

_"I don't know him as you do... but... you found him crying. Look at Herzog, he's not the type of crying. Maybe... maybe someone he knew died, or something like that, and then you found him like that, and maybe it was just too much and he didn't know how to react. Just... just let him calm down a little."_

_"I know what I saw, Fritz! Something is wrong!" Sascha exclaimed. "And the bastard doesn't let me help him!"_

_"Just give him a moment." The younger soldier opined. The blue-eyed soldier sighed and pouted, looking down. "He's tough, whatever happened he'll overcome that."_

_"I hope so." Sascha grumbled._

_But, just like he feared, Herzog didn't overcome whatever happened to him. Herzog became cold, and distant, and Sascha felt like a child who lost his parents in the crowd. He didn't make the so promised Officer Course, instead the Einsatzgruppe moved to Norway, to the very north. __Sascha was too aggrived and didn't try to talk to Herzog again, even though he knew that the Standartenführer needed someone to talk to, urgently; he knew that Herzog couldn't act like a machine forever. Sometimes at night, or during a patrol, he wouldd look at Fritz, right next to him, and feel extremely thankful for having such a friend._

_His last thought before dying was that at least Fritz was there to take care of Herzog, and that surely Herzog would take care of Fritz._

* * *

But now that Fritz was dead, Sascha felt too fragile to face the others. He couldn't even count on Herzog's reassuring presence. He shook his head and covered his comrade's body with snow:

"Goddamit Herzog, where are you?" He asked in a low whisper before standing up and walking away, trying to pull himself together.

Now he knew how difficult it was commanding, and how horrible it was to feel those bloodstains on his hands, and he felt despicable for simply giving up on the Standartenführer.

* * *

**Weeeeeee, review?**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's note: **thanks so much for the reviews! :3

Oh, and the German line is from Sleipnir's "Stimmen im Wind" (Voices in the Wind), hear it if you want to cry. ;-; so beautiful...

* * *

"Ich höre die Stimmen im Wind, sie sagen zu mir: "gib nicht auf mein Kind". Wir werden uns wieder sehen in einem neuen Leben." (I hear the voices in the wind, they tell me: "do not give up my child". We will meet again in a new life.) Sascha muttered, sitting besides Fritz's grave. He had no idea for how long Fritz had been there, but it felt like an eternity. "I can't do this without you! I need you to hear me complaining about everybody, how am I supposed to keep all of this inside me?" He asked indignantly, wrapping his arms around himself. "I need a hug..."

Sascha sighed and looked at the place where he knew he had buried Fritz. He wanted to be there with him and look at him, but at the same time he felt disgusted, because Fritz was a corpse, and there's nothing good in looking at a corpse; it's horrible and creepy and unpleasent. Sascha had never liked corpses, they were some sort of inconvenient truth. Oh, the irony!:

"Sascha!" Someone called. With a sigh, the blue-eyed zombie glanced over his shoulder to see Dietrich coming to him, with a pistol hanging on his stick by the trigger guard. "Look what my stick found!"

"That's a Mauser!" Sascha exclaimed, holding the pistol and looking at it carefully. "It has to be Herzog's. It's Herzog's, definetly; he painted his Mauser in black." He smiled, looking at the remaining black paint over the barrel and breech. "He's going to be happy!"

"When is he coming back? And Fritz?" Dietrich asked, rocking himself back and forth. Sascha's smile died and he looked again to the place where Fritz was buried:

"I have no idea..." He mumbled sadly.

* * *

Agnes looked at the mirror, drying herself with a towel; just more 3 days and she would go to work, and Herzog would go back to the mountains. She wanted to make something cool, especially because her birthday was two days before she started working, and that was the first time, in a long time, that she actually wanted to celebrate. Then something came up to her mind.

She got dressed, wrapped her hair in a towel and left the bathroom; she still limped, even though it was much better now. Herzog was sitting on a puff, playing tetris on her cell phone (that had no military purposes), but put it aside when Agnes sat on the puff next to him:

"I have a brilliant idea." She said. Herzog frowned:

"This..." He said, tugging the white tank top he was wearing. "... and that..." He pointed her right hand; the red stripes over the black nail polish had been done by him, since the young woman nagged him to the brink of insanity on how bad she was in painting her nails with the left hand. "... were your most recent brilliant ideas..." But Agnes ignored him:

"We could go out tomorrow! There are some really nice places I'd like to show you!" She exclaimed excitedly, but a little bit of her died before his horrified expression; of course, who would like to go out with her? No one, not even a dead man. Agnes decided to make it sound more appealing. "Take it as a reconaissance mission. " And she proceeded with her planning, feeling excited again. "My birthday is after tomorrow, I'd like to say hello to the guys, I miss Sascha and Fritz. And after my birthday it's my last day of... let's call it vacation, so what do you think of a day off?"

Herzog just stared at her, still processing the fact that someone, Agnes, a beautiful young woman, had asked him out. That was completely unexpected and he had no idea of what to do, he didn't even have his ceremony uniform with him! _You idiot, are you really worried about a uniform? Just look at your face!_, the little voice hissed inside his head. Herzog grunted, displeased; the little bastard was still in there!, and the little bastard was still right! He sighed and scratched his shaved head:

"Agnes, I can't just... go out with you!" He said, and hurried to explain, because he hated to see that sad expression on her face. "Look at me! I'm... greyish, or blueish... and my lips are missing! It would be highly compromising!" And added, suddenly understanding he had just given the wrong excuse. "I would love to, really, but I do have to decline your offering and-"

"I have some liquid foundation left, I can hide your greyish, or blueish, skin." Agnes replied. "I used it to hide my scars, before I got the tattoos. About that gash, nobody's going to ask, and since I limp and have this bandage people will think we had a nasty accident."

Damn, that was tempting, even though that required using unknown women's beauty products. Herzog clenched his jaw, thinking, calculating all the things that could possibly go wrong... but he ended up quitting on that, because he would find millions of problems, and lately he wasn't in the mood for problems. He cleared his throat with a gutural sound; he had a date! After all that time, he had a date! _Face, stop trying to smile! Hands, quiet! Chest, steady! Voice, natural! Behave, you've dated before!, _he told himself. It was easy, basic, anyone could do it. He could do it:

"Very well, then." He said. Agnes clapped her hands happily. "Where shall we go?"

"That's a surprise!"

Herzog made a face; surprises, he didn't like those... but he shrugged and decided not to worry:

"Yet I'm not sure about you climbing the mountain."

"Knee's great, thanks to you. I can make it!"

"I can carry you on my back."

"I can make it." Agnes repeated vehemently and Herzog just rolled his eyes, defeated:

"I will laugh, when your knee buckles and you fall face-first on the snow..." He grumbled. "And the third day seems very well planned."

Agnes just clapped her hands again, giggling happily, and wrapped her arms around Herzog's neck. The Standartenführer knew it was useless to try to keep serious, now that he was getting used to her displays of affection, so he just sank deeper on the soft puff and wrapped an arm around Agnes' shoulders:

"What is 'liquid foundation'?" He asked after a while in silence. The young archaeologist pulled his ring and dog tag from under the tank-top; she had done that a few days before, and the more she looked the more details she found, especially in the ring:

"Let's say it's some sort of camouflage. Didn't women use foundation, back in your time? It's like... face-powder." But Herzog just made a face. "Fine, I suppose you had more interesting things to look at, like guns..."

"There was this day at the barracks, some comrades and me decided to wrap ourselves in camouflage nets and run across the exercise field." Herzog chuckled. "It didn't work out as we planned, though, but luckily no superior officer saw us. I was... 23, silly me..."

"It's not silly. It's cute." Agnes replied, playing with his ring. "You're cute when you're playful, like the pillow fight this morning, and when you're cuddling, or when you rant with the potatoes."

"It's wasn't a fight, it was me finishing your rebellion with one blow." The Standartenführer corrected, allowing himself to smile and choosing to ignore the cuddling part and the stupid potatoes that didn't want to be peeled and tried to escape. "Being playful is not part of me. Let's say I've been just... indisciplined."

"First, too much discipline is bad... and second, we both know you're lying."

"Discipline is never too much, you should know that, your brother was a soldier." And he made an effort to sound aggrieved. "And I'm an SS officer, a German gentleman, leader of the elite and model of Germanic perfection, descendent of farmers and therefore carrier of 100 per cent pure blood; I do not lie, mein Schatz."

Agnes just rolled her eyes.

* * *

In the following morning Herzog was given a pile of clothes by a very excited Agnes, who was talking too fast and too much for the still half-asleep Standartenführer. When he noticed he was alone in her room, with the door closed, which meant he was supposed to get dressed. The clothes fitted him, even though he found them too tight; a black t-shirt and camo trousers that had belonged to Agnes' brother. Herzog then opened the door and peeked outside, to call Agnes, but she came out of nowhere and got in room, and Herzog found himself being dragged by the wrist until he sat on the mattress. Agnes sat next to him, holding a purple purse with black skulls. Herzog frowned:

"That looks ominous..." He grumbled, and Agnes showed him a small tube with what Herzog supposed was skin-colour paint and a little sponge:

"Close your eyes!" The young woman commanded happily. Herzog let out a suffering sigh, but closed his eyes. Then he felt something cold and a little viscous on the top of his head:

"What are you doing to me, is that the famous liquid foundation?" He asked, and felt like something soft was spreading the viscous thing all over his head, and face, and ears, and neck, and back of the hands and fingers. It took a while and Agnes didn't answer, and Herzog wasn't really sure if he wanted to know. The soft thing didn't feel that bad, but whatever it was spreading on him was a little uncomfortable:

"Take a look in the mirror!" Agnes exclaimed finally, clapping her hands. Herzog opened one eye and turned his head towards the wardrobe. Well... He stood up, made his way to the wardrobe, opened the door and looked himself in the mirror.

The Standartenfüher frowned and stepped back, eyes wide, barely believing in what he was seeing; there he was, with a normal and perfectly Germanic pale skin colour, and there were no dark circles around his eyes nor dark spots of coagulated frozen blood all over his face and around his wounds. The wounds were still there, though... but he looked normal, like he really had had just a bad accident. The Standartenführer moved a little closer, still frowning, studying himself; he actually looked... good! And there were no wrinkles on his face! He looked young again!

Herzog looked at Agnes, a small smile spreading across his face:

"A very good camouflage." He agreed, and looked at the back of his hands, amazed. Agnes was more than happy and joined him, and looked for something among the clothes she had hung in the wardrobe. Herzog's uniform was there too. The young woman then handed him a black motorbike jacket made of leather and opened one of the lower drawers, where she had some boxes. Herzog just observed, curious, until she found a pair of boots and handed them to him:

"My brother's combat boots, they surelly fit you." She said and pulled him by the arm and leaded him out of her bedroom. "I'll be ready in five minutes." And she closed the door right after him.

Herzog looked from the things he was holding to the door, then back to the things, and decided it would be better to put the boots and the jacket on, sit and wait. So he made his way to the puffs and sat, left the jacket on the free puff and put one of the boots; it fitted, but it had to be laced, which was unpractical, and those 'combat boots' shouldn't be unpractical. They couldn't be a German invention... Finally, he dressed the jacket, crossed a leg and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And he stood up and knocked at the door:

"Agnes, do you actually know how much are 5 minutes?" He asked, annoyed; so, the myths about the ridiculous amount of time women took to get dressed to go out were true!:

"Shut up..." She replied from the room. Herzog sighed:

"Maybe we should leave after lunch..."

"Make some sandwiches, will you?"

"What a cheek!" Herzog exclaimed, shocked, but he ended up laughing and going to the kitchen. He prepeared two sandwiches for Agnes and then went to knock at the door again, but she came out before he could do it:

"So, what do you think?" She asked with a huge smile.

The Standartenführer just blinked his eyes, slowly, and stepped back just to be sure he was seeing it all; Agnes was wearing a dress. No, it wasn't a dress, it was a black skirt and a black corset with red laces at the front. And Agnes had black makeup on her eyes, and somehow her eyelashes looked longer, and she had dark purple lipstick. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders and the piercings were in place. Herzog blinked his eyes even slower; what should he think? Well, he could start with the skirt; too short, and then move to the corset; too revealing, and finish on the makeup; too... attractive. He had never seen such a thing before, and he had no idea of what to do. A compliment was needed, though, because that was educated and he liked the young woman, therefore she deserved one:

"I'm glad to see you're wearing the elastic bandage on your knee." He finally said. Agnes was visibly disappointed:

"Just... just that?" She asked. Herzog felt bad, so he decided to try again:

"You look... different. Too appealing, maybe." He said; completely the opposite of the Agnes he was used to see, hidden behind large clothes. She shrugged, smiling:

"It's the first time I wear these. I bought them because I found them cute, but I never walked around with them." She said and made her way to the kitchen, and shoved the sandwiches into her small black bag. Then she went to the hall and put on a pair of boots similar to the ones the Standartenführer was wearing and dressed a black leather jacket. "Ready to go?"

"I suppose..." Herzog said, and suddenly felt a little nervous to be about to go undercover to the world of the living with Agnes... that Agnes... by his side. She opened the door and stepped outside, and he followed her.

The day was beautiful, with a clear sky and the sunlight making its way through the branches of the surrounding trees. Agnes locked the door and picked up from her bag a small key that she handed to Herzog:

"You drive." She said. Herzog widened his eyes:

"I haven't done that in years! And my driving is not safe for civilians!"

"Hein Herzog, you drive!" Agnes repeated, widening her hazel eyes that looked green, surrounded by all the black makeup. Herzog hesitated, but he ended up accepting the keys of her jeep.

And guess what, he still remembered how to drive! Maybe a little too fast, according to the way Agnes was clinging to her seat... but he was driving!

The young woman was silent, just talking to give him directions. She felt disappointed and stupid; by that time she should know that Herzog, the ever correct gentleman... dead gentleman... would show no interest. She felt like she shouldn't have left the protection of her large and manly clothes behind:

"What is that thing?" Herzog asked, interrupting her thoughts:

"It's a supermarket. It provides supplies." She explained. Herzog frowned, not taking his eyes off the road:

"Those overgrown groceries stores the Americans invented in the 30ies... interesting... Is that the only food provider in the area?"

"It's the only one in this district, yes..."

"Is there another of those things?"

"In Bergsfjord."

"I was never good with Norwegian geography..."

"It's nothing that my jeep can't solve in case you want to destroy that supermarket..." And Agnes smiled when the Standartenführer looked at her by the corner of the eye:

"How did you-"

"Sounds like something you'd do."

"It's a good plan, isn't it?"

"People won't starve to death, that will just annoy them..."

"And what if I destroy all the communication routes and people have to go on foot to that other place you said? Then my men could ambush them and-"

"This is a place of fishermen, Hein! People won't starve! And if you destroy the communication routes the people will just fix them!"

"But what will they do when I destroy the giant groceries store, and the communication routes, and the boats?" And the Standartenführer grinned excitedly. Agnes found herself smiling and shook her head:

"They'd go on foot through the woods, or by car, and get their food somewhere else..."

"My men will ambush them."

"People will call the authorities and go shopping with the police protecting them."

"I'll destroy the authorities." Herzog nodded, pleased with his most perfect plan for complete victory. Agnes rolled her eyes, but decided to let him win; poor Herzog, he would never manage to do more than scare people, and annoy them, and kill some in the meantime. But nothing like complete victory. Right? Agnes frowned:

"Hein, of you destroy this place... what will happen to me?"

"We have a deal, you do whatever you want." He tried to sound cool about it. "I intend to erradicate my enemies from the Earth in less than 20 years."

"So... I'll live in a wasteland surrounded by zombies...?" She smiled. "That's so cool!"

Herzog just grinned, unsure if he wanted his Agnes living in a place like that. Maybe he should make another plan, maybe he should wait to understand what she wanted to do in those 20 years first... maybe he should gather his men and ask their opinion on the best way to have his vengeance and give them a well-deserved victory...

He shook his head; he didn't want to think about that in that moment. He wanted to enjoy the little time he was having with Agnes.

* * *

**Weeeee, review?**


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's note:** small chapter is small, so sorry. ;-; I've been busy, but I really wanted to update.

And thanks so, so much for the reviews! :'D It really makes my day when people tell me they like the stuff I write. *happy dance with Sascha and Fritz playing maracas in the background, sombreros included*

* * *

They left the jeep by the roadside of a rural road, in a forest area, then Agnes leaded the way to a nearby fjord. In spite of the sun, the wind was cold and strong at the fjord, but that was just normal in that part of the country; Spring was always shy in northen Norway, especially in the fjords.

Herzog was sure he had been in that place before, or in a very smiliar place. Well, it's a fjord! They can't be that different from each other, right? The landscape was beautiful and majestic, the kind of things he liked... but there was just this little detail; a group of tourists was standing nearby, and that was making him nervous. He didn't like them looking at his face, and he hated them looking at Agnes, and the thought that he couldn't shove them down the fjord was unbearable:

"Maybe we should go somewhere else..." He grumbled to Agnes. She looked away from the large river to look at him, annoyed."There are people looking!"

"You look fine!"

"But-"

"Goddamit, Hein! Just go back to the jeep if you don't want to stay here!" Agnes hissed and looked away again. Herzog frowned; leave her there, with all those young men looking? Hell no! He tried to be persuasive:

"It's pretty windy, I'm sure you are cold."

"I sleep with you, wind is nothing compared to you." The young woman replied and started to take pictures of the landscape with her cell phone. Herzog let out a suffering sigh:

"Can't we just go to a quieter place?"

"Once I finish my pictures..."

The Standartenführer rolled his eyes and looked around, utterly annoyed. He caught a young man looking at Agnes in a way he found inappropriate. With a low growl, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her away with him:

"I'll finish everybody before you finish your damn pictures." He growled lowly, not giving her the time to start to protest. She just walked away with him, confused, but her annoyment turned slowly into comprehension; of course Herzog wasn't comfortable, she wouldn't be either, if her face had such a gash... and if she was dead among the living. She sighed; that fjord had history, she had been there once and had intended to jump... but she had just walked away, afraid that somehow she could survive the fall. She thought that going back to the place where she wanted to suicide would prove herself and the world that she wasn't that bad, that she had even gotten company... dead company. Agnes felt like that had been a bigger mistake than leaving her usual clothes behind.

"There's a German bunker ahead. Just follow the river." She said when they reached a bifurcation; the left trail leaded to the parking lot and the right followed the river. Herzog stopped and looked at her, frowning. "No people in there."

"Sounds good." He mumbled, taking the right trail and not letting go of Agnes. And they walked, with the river at their right and the forest at their left, and Herzog began to feel more comfortable; he hadn't been a coward, hell no! He was just keeping himself (and everyone else) safe. And keeping Agnes away from greedy looks. He made a note to self to hide those too atractive clothes once they got home.

The young woman noticed his arm was still wrapped around her. Maybe he just forgot it there, but nevermind, it felt good. She decided to wrap her arm around him too, but he was too big and large, so she had to be content with grabbing the back of the leather jacket he was wearing. And Herzog felt the light weight of her hand and arm, but maybe he was going too fast and she had to hold on him to keep up, so maybe he should slow down a little... or maybe he should let her go, because she was small and delicate and his arm was everything but light.

Agnes decided to try and ease the mood:

"There used to be birds and seagulls and squirrels here." She commented. The Standartenführer frowned, suddenly aware of the silence around them, but he just shrugged:

"Maybe we scared them."

"Maybe..."

Ok, that was not how Agnes had pictured the day... She sighed.

Very well, that was not how Herzog had imaged the day... He sighed.

They finally reached the bunker and the Standartenführer allowed himself to smile; it still had an 88mm Flak in very good conditions, aiming at the English, maybe Scottish, shore. The bunker had no door, apparently any peasant could get in there, and Herzog wondered if he could make the artillery piece work, but as they reached the inside and he studied it carefully, he concluded the mechanism had been deactivated and that he would need an engineer to restaure it.

Agnes took his disappointed growl as if he was disapproving of that place, so she decided to busyy herself with eating the sandwiches before she could cry. They made their way outside the bunker and Herzog spent some time looking at the horizon:

"I've seen these waters filled with war ships and U-Boots." He commented, looking at the place where the river met the sea, at the base of the fjord. Agnes had to put on her sunglasses to be able to look at the indicated place. "There was a day I went for an inspection in a U-Boot." He grimaced. "I didn't like it, it feels like a floating coffin." He looked at her. "They were useful, though..."

Agnes just nodded, slowly, and noticed for the first time that, in spite of having shiny eyes like any normal and healthy human being, Herzog's pupils didn't react to the light. That was surely practical. She eventually forced herself to look away from that pair of stunning blue eyes:

"I never visited a submarine... and I don't really want to." She replied. He grinned:

"What about the Panzer?" He asked, and Agnes grinned too:

"Fine, it's not that bad..."

"I always win!" Herzog exclaimed contently and, since there were better vibers between them, he took the chance to hold hands with her. "Now, where are we going?"

"Across the forest." The young woman said; that was more like she had pictured it. The Standartenführer was visibly pleased with the Norwegian forest around him and with the comfortable darkness the trees caused, and he started to talk about operas. In spite of the sound of his deep growling voice and their steps, Agnes couldn't help but notice the silence. She eventually forgot about that and focused on the big dead man walking hand in hand with her; she was sure he was going to like the next place she had in mind.

A few meters ahead the trees became more sparse. Herzog frowned:

"Where are we going?"

"Are you afraid?" She teased, and expected him to answer something like «I fear nothing, Fräulein!», but he just grinned:

"Of myself. Of failure. Of oblivion." He listed. Agnes rolled her eyes:

"Fine, Herr Standartenführer..."

"Of your brilliant ideas..." His grin turned into a smirk and she grimaced and punched his arm. Not that it affected him...

They reached the end of the forest and saw a vast meadow delimited by a wooden fence. There were a few houses in the distance, but no one in sight. Agnes frowned, confused:

"Weird, there should be horses in here..." She said. "You know, those really cute Fjord ponies. Have you ever seen one, Hein?" The young woman looked at him, he was looking at the farthest corner of the fence. "Hein?"

"You mean those horses?" He asked, and she looked to the place where he was looking at; there were at least 20 ponies crowding at the corner, visibly terrified and looking directly at Herzog, not daring to move or make a sound. Agnes bit her lower lip, utterly confused:

"Why are they doing that? They are used to people, I've been here before and they even came closer to the fence!" She explained. Herzog was still looking at the ponies, feeling the little world he was building up again so carefully crumble painfully:

"Because they are animals, Agnes." He explained, slowly, and looked down at his boots. "And they know I'm no good..." A bitter smile appeared in what was left of his lips. "And so do the birds, and the seagulls, and the squirrels."

The young woman widened her eyes; scared little animals was not the plan! The plan was for Herzog to socialize with the ponies, because he liked horses so much... Agnes bit her lower lip nervously, knowing perfectly that had been quite painful for the Standartenführer. She grabbed his hand again and pulled him back to the forest:

"Silly ponies, don't mind them! We have more places to go..." She tried. He followed her obediently, his head low, and the young woman sighed disappointedly. "Or... maybe we should go home..."

* * *

Agnes locked the door behind Herzog, who sat on the floor and started to unlace the boots. She sat on a small stool near the coat-hanger and unlaced her boots too:

"So..." He said, placing the borrowed boots next to his own boots and undressing the leather jacket. "How do I take this off my face?"

Agnes put her boots, jacket and bag aside and stood up:

"Come." She said. Herzog followed her to the bathroom. She opened the cabinet's door and picked up a bottle of Nivea cream and cotton disks. She considered volunteering to do that, but that required Herzog to take off the t-shirt, and she knew he would rather shoot himself in the head that doing that, so she handed him the bottle and the disks. "You just have to put the cream on the disks and then rub it on your face."

Herzog nodded, but he went to pick up some clothes first because he wanted a cold water shower.

Taking the foundation off his face wasn't that difficult and didn't take much time, but the Standartenführer couldn't help but feel sick when the healthy and normal skin colour was gone and the colour of his dead skin was revealed, and he growled lowly when the dark circles around his eyes and the wrinkles were visible again. The cold water shower only made him feel more wrathful.

_There, are you happy? This is what you get for pretending to be something you aren't._, the voice hissed as Herzog was getting dressed:

"Shut up!" He roared angrily and looked himself in the mirror; a walking corpse. He couldn't blame the animals for being afraid.

He left the bathroom and sat on a puff, arms crossed over his chest and head low. Agnes' turn to go clean her face and take a shower.

When she came out of the bathroom she was wearing a large t-shirt, large shorts and socks, and was finishing to wrap her hair around the towel. Herzog looked at her and frowned:

"Your eyes are reddened." He stated. She offered him a small smile and shrugged:

"I got shampoo in my eyes. It sucks." She lied and got in the room. Herzog shook his head, feeling so sick he lost balance when he stood up; she had been crying! She had been crying because he had failed miserably in giving her a pleasent day!

He had failed again!:

"Hein... I'd like to dry my hair... if you don't mind!" She said. Herzog blinked his eyes quickly, and noticed he had wrapped her arms around her, lifting her from the floor. He hadn't even noticed he had done that. He let her go, embarassed and not having the guts to look at her in the eye.

When Agnes went back to the room Herzog was still in the same place. The young woman sighed tiredly; she just wanted to have a nice day outside with him, it was not her intention to traumatize him or something like that. It should be really bad when a cute pony is afraid of you... She sat on the mattress and tapped the empty space next to her, and after a little hesitation Herzog sat next to her:

"Do you want to watch a movie, play chess, listen to music, read... sleep?" She asked patiently. Herzog looked at her; he had screwed up everything again and there was Agnes, again, offering him a hand. He felt miserable and wrapped his arms around her tightly, like his life, or death, or whatever, depended on that. The young woman just petted his shaved head, feeling horribly guilty. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken you to the fjord and to see the ponies..." She mumbled sadly and felt his big and cold body tense up; _Oh shit, he's mad at me!_, she thought.

But Herzog wasn't mad at her, he just thought she was really disappointed with him. And she was more than right to be; who wouldn't be upset when there's such a beautiful weather outside but you have to stay inside? He felt like a coward, like a weak man, who had backed off when finding himself in a difficult situation. And he felt stupid; what did it matter that a bunch of horses was afraid of him... if Agnes wasn't? The Standartenführer couldn't tell what hurt the most.

That night he couldn't sleep; first he had been really unsure about staying there with Agnes, she surelly wouldn't want such a disgraceful creature with her... but as Sascha had correctly described him, he was a damn greedy arrogant bastard who refused to let go what was rightfully his... and so there he was, both arms wrapped around Agnes and resting his chin on the top of her head. He spent the whole night awaked, torturing himself about his shameful and absolutely un-Germanic behaviour, and thinking on how useless he was; Agnes birthday was just a few hours away and he couldn't even bake her a cake (he knew how to cook for survival, there's a difference between survival and gluttony), and he couldn't even kiss her, and he couldn't even go out on a date with her, and he couldn't even give her a present...

He let out a low, sorrowful snarl, and tightened his grip around her.

He would have to rely on Sascha to make Agnes happy.

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**Weeeeeeeee, review?**


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's note: **thanks so much for the reviews! ;-; *happy tear* SO MUUUUUCH! Weeeeeee!

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Agnes yawned and opened one lazy eye. Red fabric. She opened her other eye; red fabric on a big, large chest. Herzog's arms were firmly clasped around her and she managed to look up.

He was looking at her and the young woman decided to let him think he had succeeded in making her believe he was smiling:

"Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, mein Schatz." (Happy Birthday*, my treasure.) Herzog said. Agnes smiled widely and clapped her hands excitedly:

"I'm 21! I feel so cool right now!" She exclaimed and, in spite of the disastrous previous day, she actually felt good; at least Herzog was there.

Not wanting to ruin her happiness by stating the obvious about the lack of cake and presents, the Standartenführer decided to volunteer to bring her breakfast:

"Breakfast in bed, you really spoil me." Agnes said happily as he stood up.

* * *

Little later they were making their way up the mountain; Herzog was wearing the same clothes as the day before and Agnes had a thick jacket, cargos and combat boots. She eventually grew tired of Herzog asking her every 5 minutes if her knee was fine, and to show her annoyance she threw a snowball at his face.

Herzog, a true German gentleman, obviously didn't throw a snowball at her face; instead he threw her to the snow and didn't help her to stand up. Giggling like a fool, Agnes stood up and trotted after him.

As they climbed, the young woman began to feel... observed. And followed. She glanced behind a few times and looked around too, but there was only Herzog and her in the snowy landscape:

"Hein?" She called. He looked at her. "Do you feel observed or followed or both?"

"Both. I knew Sascha could make it!" Herzog replied proudly, allowing himself to smile. But his smile didn't last long, though; Herzog began to feel nervous, he had no idea of how to behave with his troops... he had been gone for so long, and now showed up in civilian clothes (cool civilian clothes, nonetheless) and with Agnes, and even a blind man could see Agnes and he were long past the formal relationship of commander and subordinate. That somehow made him feel vulnerable. Then he spotted a stick coming out of the snow and rolled his eyes. Agnes saw it too, before it disappeared under the snow:

"Well, Dietrich tried..." She laughed.

When they reached the top the zombie army was waiting for them, looking curiously at their commander's outfit. Dietrich waved his hand enthusiastically at Agnes and Rottenführer Bergen smoothed his bloodstained uniform. Michael rolled his only eye. Herzog thought about saluting his troops decently, but they all circled Agnes and started to make her questions about her injuries, so the Standartenführer decided to let them be. He looked around, frowning, trying to find Sascha and Fritz, and he eventually noticed the Doctor, still tied to the rock. Herzog couldn't care less; Sascha surely had good reasons to leave him there.

Dietrich noticed that Herzog was looking for someone. He decided to be a good comrade and soldier and approached his officer shyly:

"Fritz's dead, Herr Standartenführer." He informed. Herzog frowned even more. "Sascha's with him. Behind the cave, at the other slope."

The Standartenführer nodded and looked at Agnes. Of course Rottenführer Bergen was already too close to her... He sighed, shook his head and left to look for Sascha. Rouding the cave hidden in the snow he found himself in a relatively steep and rugged slope, and saw Sascha's back a few meters ahead; the young soldier was sitting on the snow, his head low and his arms wrapped around himself. Herzog kneeled next to him, but Sascha didn't notice him. Herzog cleared his throat with a gutural sound and Sascha startled, and looked at him with big wide eyes.

A moment of awkward silence.

Herzog sighed and looked away from Sascha, to the snow in front of them:

"Start digging." He said. The smaller zombie nodded and did what he was told:

"Nice clothes." He commented, removing the snow that was covering Fritz's dead body. He shivered when his hands began to feel the cold corpse beneath the snow, but he forced himself to continue. "Is Agnes here, too?"

"She is. It's her birthday, she wanted to see the troops."

"She recovered, then." Sascha looked at him, smiling. Herzog nodded and Sascha's smile grew bigger. "You've been all this time with her."

"I was." Herzog confirmed and looked at the now unburied Fritz. Dead, again. Herzog shook his head to dismiss the unpleasent memories:

"You can make the Doctor fix him, right?" Sascha asked sheepishly, looing sadly at his best friend. "I tied him to the rock the same day I kicked you out, I don't think he will help me of good will..."

"You want Fritz to have an ugly scar?" The Standartenführer asked and pressed his right hand over the gash on Fritz's neck. The gash closed with a slimy sound and the young soldier opened his eyes and took in a shallow breath, before sitting upright and straight into Sascha's embrace.

Herzog knew he didn't belong in that little moment of them and walked away, back to the place where Agnes and his troops were. He found them very busy digging pseudo-trenches and bulding pseudo-fortresses in the snow. With a sigh, he sat on a rock near the cave and looked down at his hands. Little later, Agnes kneeled next to him and held his big hands between hers. He looked at her:

"Is everything alright?" She asked, concerned. "Dietrich said Fritz-"

"Fritz is fine, and so is Sascha." He assured, and she smiled. "Snowfight?"

"Epic snowfight, with Team Archaology, Team Wehrmacht and Team Panzer! Want to join?"

"Is there a Team SS?" Herzog asked, amused:

"Team Archaeology are the SS guys and me." Agnes replied proudly. "Team Panzer has no chance, they're only 3."

"And Michael is short-sighted." The Standartenführer chuckled. "Smash that Rottenführer for me, will you?"

"You're not coming?" She sounded a little disappointed and Herzog felt really tempted to join her, even if just for the pleasure of throwing snowballs at Bergen's face... but he was still a Standartenführer, and colonels don't play snowfights with their subordinates... especially when their subordinates have been upset with them for years... He sighed and shook his head:

"Careful with your knee." He grumbled. She rolled her eyes and trotted back to the soon to be fortress/trench area of Team Archaeology.

Sascha and Fritz showed up little later and the blue-eyed zombie frowned:

"They're throwing a party without us!" He exclaimed, shocked. Herzog looked up at them and touched his chin:

"Fritz..." He called, and the younger soldier looked at him. "You have some blood here."

The brown-eyed zombie blushed and hurried to wipe the blood away from his chin. Sascha offered him an innocent smile, then looked at Herzog:

"You always find out about us!"

"You make it pretty easy..." The Standartenführer replied and allowed himself to smile; Sascha didn't sound angry, or upset, or disappointed. Fritz trotted to Team Archaeology's defense complex, utterly embarassed. Sascha kneeled in front of Herzog:

"You seem better, but you don't seem good at all." He stated. Herzog rose a hairless eyebrow. "Pretty clothes, by the way. Agnes' dead brother's, I suppose?"

"We need to talk." Herzog grumbled, a little upset because seemed Sascha had known about Agnes' brother before him:

"Good that you mention it, but not today." Sascha stood up. "I presume you're going to stay a little longer with her...?"

"Just one more day. She has to work."

"We talk after tomorrow, then." Sascha ran towards Team Archaeology. He jumped into the trench and wrapped an arm around Agnes' shoulder, who was helping one of the SS guys digging in the snow. "So, I heard it's your birthday! How lucky, you're getting closer to the grave!" He exclaimed with a smile. The young woman smiled back and punched his stomach playfully.

* * *

It was little past lunch time when Team Archaeology and Team Wehrmacht defeated Team Panzer, but there was a technical draw between Team Archaeology and Team Wehrmacht, in spite of Team Archaeology's large numeric superiority. Agnes was feeling tired and really happy, even though her knee ached a little:

"I'm here, so we won anyway!" Sascha exclaimed and helped her to get out of the semi-ruined trench. Around them there were still some struggling zombies. "Good to see you're back in shape. You really scared the living hell out of me when Fritz and I found you like that..."

"I'm fine, now." Agnes assured and walked towards Herzog, who was still sitting on the rock looking at his hands. "I can't do any field work anymore, but I got a job at the museum and I moved to a little house at the base of the mountain." Sascha followed her:

"You liked us so much you moved in closer, I'm flattered!" A huge, sly smile grew on his lips and he showed his bloodstained teeth. "Or should I say that you liked Herzog so much...?" Agnes decided to ignore him and his epic shit-eating grin. "Are you turning pink? What have you two done to make you change colour?"

Agnes choose not to reply, because she knew Sascha would easily turn the game and she didn't want that. She stopped in front of Herzog and he looked at her:

"We won. We can go home now." She informed. "And yes, I hit Klaus a few times."

"Gut." Herzog stood up and shook the snow off his camos. Sascha watched with an amused smirk the way Herzog was trying to act cool and the way Agnes was trying to cope with him:

"Knee's fine." Agnes said before he could ask. Herzog just nodded. He looked once more at his troops, who had finally stopped struggling with each other, and were looking at him and Agnes curiously. Maybe he should explain himself... He sighed:

"I'm coming back after tomorrow." He informed. His troops just looked at him. He started to walk away, with Agnes after him, then Rottenführer Bergen decided to ask something, in spite of the attempts of his two soldiers to keep him quiet:

"Herr Standartenführer, just to clear out the situation... who's in charge, while you're gone?"

Herzog glanced over his shoulder, looking at the other officer like he had grown two heads:

"Sascha, of course!" He turned around to face his troops again, narrowing his eyes. "Are there any doubts about Sascha's authority?"

And even though Herzog had been gone for a while and he wasn't wearing his uniform... he was still quite an impressive sight. The troops shook their heads, shyly, and the Wehrmacht soldiers exchanged a few looks, wondering if Sascha would denounce their behaviour.

Since no one answered, Herzog and Agnes walked away.

When they were out of hearing range, Sascha turned around to face the other soldiers:

"In your face, motherfuckers!" He sang and jiggled around. Fritz nodded:

"In your face!" He agreed. Rottenführer Bergen let out a sad grumble. Sascha stopped jiggling, but his victorious expression didn't leave his face:

"SS soldiers, back to your posts! Rottenführer Bergen, Wittmann and Peiper included." He commanded. "Wehrmacht soldiers, you're going to clean this mess; I want this mountain like this snowfight never happened!"

Everybody did as they were told, in spite of the unsatisfied grunts and snarls. Sascha trotted towards the Doctor and started to dance around the rock:

"In your face, too!" He sang. The Doctor just rolled his eyes, defetead. Then Sascha sprinted towards Fritz and hooked his arm around the brown-eyed zombie's neck, and made him spin around. "So, what did you think about Herzog and our little Agnes?"

"They're so cute I feel like picking on her until the end of times." Fritz chuckled. "And you?"

"I feel like slapping Herzog because he's sooooo silly! And pick on little Agnes too, of course."

* * *

Dressed in a t-shirt and trackpants, Herzog threw himself over a puff. Agnes sat on the other puff, with a dish of pasta in hands:

"I did miss those guys!" She exclaimed happily. The Standartenführer looked at her and allowed himself to smile, watching as she ate and talked about how awesome their snowfight had been. He did want to feel happy for her, but all he could do was to think on how horribly boring he was. And on how jealous he was of everybody who could pick up something and turn it into epic fun. He sighed and looked away.

Agnes frowned and put her empty dish on the floor, and leaned towards Herzog:

"Hein?" She called. He looked at her again. "Is everything alright?"

"Ja." He lied and forced himself to smile. "Do you want to go back?"

"Not today." She smiled too, and he narrowed his eyes:

"Is your knee fine?" He asked, and Agnes nodded slowly; it wasn't aching anymore... just a little, she could barely feel it. The young woman shrugged and wrapped her arms around his neck:

"I want to spend my birthday just with you, too." She explained.

Herzog blinked his eyes, slowly, before patting her dark-copper hair awkwardly:

"You spent these last 2 months with me, isn't that enough?" He asked and she shook her head. Herzog smiled.

* * *

The next day, the glorious day of «dolce far niente», was anything but «dolce». At least for Herzog, because Agnes was really excited about her new work and on how cool it would be working in a museum full of weapons and where people had been murdered. The Standartenführer did want to pay her attention and share all that happiness, but all of that meant that he was going back to his troops, and he would have to talk to them and explain himself, and one of the things Herzog hated the most was to explain himself.

And he was sure everybody had noticed how close he was to Agnes, and he had no idea if they would still take him seriously or laugh at him.

And now that Agnes was going to work at the museum, when would they be together like that again? The museum was a bit far, even though Agnes could drive... but what if she ran out of time for him?

Herzog changed to a sitting position. Agnes' head, resting on his stomach, slipped to his thigh. She frowned and moved away a little:

"Having my nose broken by a Soviet zombie was weird enough, I don't need your abs to do it too." She said. Herzog couldn't care less:

"When are we going to meet again?" He asked, his voice so serious the young woman was a little taken aback. She changed to a sitting position too:

"I don't know. The director hasn't hired anyone else besides me, so I suppose I'll work everyday until he finds someone to make shifts with me."

"That's slavery!" Herzog roared angrily. Agnes rolled her eyes:

"It's not slavery, it's a museum where people have been killed and from where a German tank was stolen. There aren't much people willing to go back there, they're afraid. And my salary is not that bad."

The Standartenführer looked down, sadly; she preferred a bankrupt museum to him... Maybe he should just kill her, that would be way easier.

But she was happy about working at the museum.

And Herzog did believe in stuff like honour and spoken deals.

He startled when he finally noticed Agne's hand holding his chin, forcing him to look at her:

"We'll manage." She promised with an assuring smile. That reminded him too much of the way Erika had smiled, before he left to the western front in 1916; he left to find nothing when he came back. He didn't want to go through that again.

Even if his time to have feelings for someone was long gone.

Herzog forced himself to smile and nod, and she seemed happy with that. He laid down again, making a huge effort to enjoy the comfortable air mattress, the fluffy blanket around them, the soft pillow under his head and the closeness of Agnes' small body. She rested her head on his stomach again and went on an endless monologue on how cool it would be to finally not having to worry about ruined manicure and sun burns and bugs crawling over the material she was going to collect. Her monologue didn't last long, though, because little later Herzog's big and cold hand covered her mouth:

"What are we, Agnes?" He asked, looking at the ceiling. She moved his hand away:

"I'm a woman, you're a Nazi zombie. A zombie is a living-dead. You're a pretty badass living-dead." Agnes replied, determined to stop Herzog before he ruined all the fun. He lifted his head and offered her his best «I'm not impressed...»-German look. She rolled her eyes; there, he had ruined the fun. "We are whatever you want us to be."

Herzog rose a hairless eyebrow; that was tempting... but he didn't need a mirror anymore to remind him of his limits; the fjord/bunker/pony/birthday adventures had been enough. And he really didn't want to break his part of their deal. He rested his head on the pillow again and petted her head:

"You are my dearest lady-friend, then." He concluded, and mentally told his heart to stop feeling torn apart. Agnes sighed and forced herself to smile:

"Consider yourself my dearest friend, too." She replied. Because really, not even a dead man wanted her.

* * *

Herzog dressed his black trench coat and Agnes zipped her leather jacket. He opened the door for her and she stepped outside with a giggle, and he followed her, closing the door after him and covering his head with his officer cap:

"Do you have lunch?" He asked, watching her lock the door:

"Lunch box in my bag."

"Do you have your bottle of water?"

"Inside my bag."

"Do you have your knife?" And she frowned. "Just in case..."

"Yes Hein, I have my knife... it's in my pocket."

"Gut." The Standartenführer walked her to the jeep, and they stopped next to it. Agnes bit her lower lip:

"So... I'll tell you something as soon as I get a definitive schedule." She promised. Herzog nodded, looking carefully at her; at least she wasn't wearing those too atractive clothes anymore, nor the makeup. He took the chance to caress her face a last time:

"Drive carefully, respect the traffic lights-"

"Something you don't, but it's fine." She chuckled. Herzog ignored her:

"-call me immediately if someone bothers you and..." He sighed. "... have a good time."

"Talk to Sascha." Agnes demanded. The Standartenführer nodded, shyly. "And try not to kill that much people before I tell you something."

"I can't promise you that, mein Schatz..."

"Try not to get caught...?" She tried with a forced smile. Herzog nodded and pulled her to a bear-hug. She hugged him back and thought about telling him she was going to miss him a lot, but that would be too novelettish and she really didn't want to drive with tears on her eyes. So, when they pulled apart all she was said was 'Thank you. For everything.'

"My pleasure." Herzog replied. He thought about telling her he would miss her very much, but he didn't want to sound desperate.

He watched as she got in the jeep and drove away. With a low growl, the Standartenführer made his way back to the cave on the top of the mountain.

* * *

*It literally translates as 'everything good for the birthday', but it sounds... ugly. ._. So I opted to translate it as 'happy birthday' instead.

**Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, review?**


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's note: **thank you people for the review. :3

* * *

Making his way up the mountain, Herzog mentally prepared for the so dreaded talk with Sascha... and then maybe with the rest of the Einsatzgruppe. He snorted and shook his head; all those years working hard to bury every memory and feelings thrown away... Could things have been different if he had told Sascha what happened?

And did he want those things to be different...?

Herzog suddenly had the feeling that he was being followed, but he didn't need to look behind to know who it was. He stopped, looking to the mountains ahead and to the dawning sky. Sascha stopped by his side:

"The others?" The Standartenführer asked, not looking at the younger soldier:

"Still in the cave." He replied and sat on the snow, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I left Fritz in charge, you may start."

"Fritz in charge, you do have some sense of humour..." Herzog chuckled, or pretended to, and sat next to the other zombie. He sighed and decided that making a little and perfect pile of snow in front of him would probably help while he spoke, so he started to make it. "You might remember one of the many times you asked me why I wasn't married and I told you I did have someone in mind."

"Ja." Sascha replied quickly and started to rock back and forth eagerly; finally, after all those years he was going to understand what had caused such an impact in the apparently undestructible Herzog:

"I met that someone when I was 13 and when I was 18 I had this brilliant idea of going to the western front, being promoted to officer and come back to marry her. She was from a noble family and I was just the son of farmers, or lower middle class if you want, so of course I had to make myself worthy." He told as he carefully piled the snow. "It happened that I thought I still wasn't worthy enough, when the war was over. Or maybe I had found something I really liked; being a soldier. So I joined in an Officers Course. And then the Führer saved Germany. And I was made an SS-Standartenführer and given an Einsatzgruppe. In the meantime, I never met her again, but I always wrote her and I promised her I would come back. Which I did-"

"-in December, 1940..." Sascha mumbled, astonished; holy shit, all that time and Herzog had kept himself for that woman! Sascha felt suddenly intimidated by the presence of such an honourable man. He rocked himself faster. "What happened?"

Herzog cast him an annoyed look for the interruption, then he looked at his small and nearly perfect pile of snow and focused on it again:

"I went back to my home-village in December, 1940. Her family had lived there for generations." He hesitated, both voice and hands, and Sascha noticed that and frowned. "I found her married and with children." The Standartenführer went silent for a while, busying himself despairingly with the growing pile of snow that was still not perfect enough. Sascha stopped rocking himself, his frown bigger, and he dragged himself closer to Herzog and bent sidewards, trying to peek under the flap of Herzog's officer cap:

"And why didn't you tell me right away that the stupid un-romantic bitch did that?" He asked, aggrieved. "Did you think I'd make fun of you and your old-fashioned manners?"

Herzog sighed and finally looked at Sascha, whose frown was replaced by a sorry expression; Herzog looked older, and exhausted, and sorrowful... but only his eyes, his face was completely blank. He sighed again and looked back to the not-so-small pile of snow, still not perfect:

"I was ashamed." He answered. "Ashamed my men would think I was a complete failure if they knew, because... if I had no medals, no family... if I wasn't a man... how could I be a soldier? And how could I lead them?"

Sascha felt that his chin was being victimized by the forces of gravity. He just looked at Herzog, apparently very interested in his pile of snow, who looked almost like a little child building a sand castle. But only then the younger soldier was aware of what was going inside the Standartenführer, how painful it had been, and how painful it still was. The young soldier shook his head, frowning again:

"You really thought I'd think that of you?" He asked in a low whisper. It sounded so grievous Herzog looked at him immediately. The Standartenführer bit what was left of his lower lip, aprehensivly:

"I did..." And only in that moment he realised how stupid he had been. "Maybe I wasn't only ashamed... maybe I was scared of your jugdment, too..."

"Fuck it, Herzog! You caught me in bed with Fritz! I talked to you about that! You told me I should have told you! Do YOU think you had any reasons to be ashamed or scared?" Sascha widened his blue eyes in such a way they seemed about to pop out. "Did you really think you should be ashamed of what you believe in and stand for?" Herzog couldn't look at his Ordonnanz and he even tried to hide a little in his collar:

"I did..." He mumbled. "I didn't want to be a failure and disappoint you..."

"Failure! I see no fucking failure!" Sascha was growing hysterical and he pulled the helmet off his head, angrily. "A goddamned fucking woman couldn't wait for you, that means she didn't love you at all! Fucking love is fucking sacrifice, fuck! It fucking hurts, I guess it does! But you didn't fucking fail, are you fucking hearing? You waiting around some 20 fucking years, no one ever fucking does that! That's some really fucking nice shit!" His closed fist collided with his helmet. "You have no idea of what I fucking felt when you found out about Fritz and me! I was terrified of your judgment! I was terrified that I had failed as a German soldier! I was fucking terrified that I had fucking disappointed you! Fucking look at me, Herzog!"

And Herzog did, with wide blue eyes. Sascha's angry face vanished, slowly, and was replaced by a sad expression:

"You were my fucking role model. You still are..." He mumbled.

The Standartenführer felt like a little miserable creature, one of those really, really, really ugly stinky insects with many legs, that live under the dirt and nobody likes. He looked down again, unable to stand Sascha's stare:

"I guess... I was too selfish." He mumbled. He let out a sigh, feeling exactly like he had felt when he had stepped in Agnes' house for the first time. "Too selfish. You didn't make the Officers Course because I really wanted to get away from Berlin, but I also thought more experience before the course wouldn't do any bad... or maybe I came up with this because it sounded like a good excuse to me." A bitter smile spread on his face. "I got you killed... I failed, Sascha... I failed miserably, with you and your comrades. And I disappointed you."

"Shit happens, you didn't fail! You disappointed me, though... but... that's past, it's over..." Sascha put his helmet aside and sighed tiredly. "You just... damn it, how did you manage alone all those years? I spent two months dealing with those guys and I was getting insane, especially when Fritz... you know..."

"I'm old, Sascha... I'm experienced, I can be a machine if I want to." Herzog smiled with no joy and looked at the younger soldier again. "Even though it hurts. But... I was too scared, too ashamed,-"

"-too hurt." Sascha grumbled.

"It wasn't like I didn't care..." The Standartenführer felt suddenly irritated and destroyed the pile of snow with a powerful punch. "All that loot... I was planning to send you all to Ireland, I just didn't tell you because I was afraid someone could overhear... and then it was too late..." He finished sadly and looked at his gloved hands. And there was the blood only he could see.

Sascha just looked at his officer for a moment, feeling like he had been slapped with a towel drenched in cold water; so... that was it. Herzog had closed himself in his little shell of solitude but, just like the young soldier had hoped deep inside all those years... he was still the same man. He pulled Herzog to a bear-hug that certainly shouldn't happen between an officer and a subordinate, shoved Herzog's officer cap off his shaved head and patted it amiably:

"Shit, I knew it! I knew you're just a ridiculously big and fierce-looking guy with an even ridiculously bigger butter-heart!" Sascha exclaimed happily. "And I finally got the chance to know how does it feel to pet this shaved head of yours!"

Herzog allowed himself to laugh and to rest his forehead on Sascha's shoulder; there, he was forgiven... and it hadn't been that difficult. He had been so stupid, forgetting that at least Sascha wasn't just a subordinate anymore... but a friend. A friend he almost lost. He raised his hand to stir Sascha's blonde hair:

"I guess you know me too well..." Herzog said, his forehead still on the younger soldier's shoulder. Sascha's blonde head rested on Herzog's large shoulder:

"I knew something had happened with you." The blonde-haired zombie sighed. "I should have insisted with you."

"It wouldn't work."

"You can't just ignore me, you know that."

"Don't try me, young man."

They laughed, relived, and Sascha let go Herzog, who put his officer cap back in place. They both straightened their backs and Herzog had the feeling that he had dropped a horribly heavy backbag. He looked up, to the clear sky above him, and realised it was a beautiful morning.

Herzog and Sascha stood up and started to walk to the cave, with Sascha playing with his helmet:

"So tell me, how was it with Agnes?" Sascha suddenly asked. Herzog took a while to think on the answer, because he knew how Sascha's mind worked. He shrugged:

"Good." He simply answered, and regreted saying that the moment the younger soldier burst into laughter. He frowned. "Sascha..."

"I'm serious, how was it? Did you tell her your tragic love-story? Did you help her with that knee? And did you bathe, because you stink to soap." The younger soldier became serious. "You look good, almost as good as before, but you still don't look that good."

Herzog sighed tiredly; he had almost forgotten how Sascha was. And how he had secretly missed the utterly irritating and questioning Ordonnanz. The Standartenführer looked at the snowy path ahead of them:

"I did bathe. I did help Fräulein Agnes recovering her knee. And I did tell her my tragic love-story." Herzog confirmed and, by the corner of the eye, noticed that Sascha was looking at him with a silly smile. He sighed again. "And I guess she helped me recovering this thick head of mine..."

"And that poor heart of yours?" Sascha asked. Uncomfortably accurate, as always:

"Fräulein Agnes is a good and dear friend." Herzog replied. Evasive, as always. He just hoped Sascha wouldn't notice he was blushing, but he knew too well his hopes were vain. Sascha's smile grew wider:

"I forgot you have to... hm... court her before anything else, am I right?" He placed his helmet back on his head, happily. "But you can't fool us, especially me. There is, or there will be something."

Herzog just grinned sadly, shaking his head:

"What about you and Fritz?" He asked and looked at Sascha with a raised hairless eyebrow. It felt really good watching the younger soldier blush and being momentarily unable to speak. Then Sascha shrugged:

"I swear we did bury whatever happened between us... but that little bastard came out of the grave after us. It still haunts us, can you believe these things?"

"You two might be the luckiest people I know..."

"I know that." Sascha said seriously, and his smile vanished. "Being in charge of all those assholes without having Fritz to talk to and to support me, and without you to reassure me... damn, I was losing it!"

"So, you love him." Herzog concluded, amused, and grinned when Sascha blushed even more and tried to hide under his helmet:

"I... I guess so, I don't know... I might... I'm not sure..." He babbled. "Stop nosing around!"

"Annoying, isn't it?" Herzog's grin became wider and he even punched Sascha on the shoulder. "Have you two talked about that? I guess you have, with all that blood on Fritz's chin..."

"You shouldn't support me, it's... it's wrong! What I feel for him, it's wrong!" Sascha mumbled and crossed his arms. "Agnes said people... in the same situation as Fritz and me can get married, that's horrible..." Herzog just chuckled:

"Why?"

"Goddamnit, I was taught like that! The thing sounds wrong!"

"You love him, don't you? Just go for it, there's no Gestapo or Dachau anymore!"

Sascha just blinked his eyes, slowly, still blushing. But then he frowned and looked at Herzog:

"You and your bloody mind games! Well, Herr Fop; you love Agnes, don't you? Just go for it, there's no war anymore!"

Herzog narrowed his eyes; Sascha was actually an expert in turning the game. He just shrugged, trying to keep cool and knowing he was failing miserably:

"Fräulein Agnes and I are just friends. Good friends. And we still have a war to win, against these peasants!"

"Wo-hoo, death to the peasants!" Sascha sang happily.

* * *

They found the rest of the tropps not giving a flying damn about Fritz. Just as expected...

Fritz went to hide behind Sascha, more than frustrated, and everybody else stood up from the ground and saluted Herzog. He knew he didn't need to explain himself to his Einsatzgruppe, because Sascha would do it, and that actually made him feel more confident. He started to pace back and forth in front of his troops, aligned the best they could inside the bigger hollow in the cave:

"Gentlemen, after some reconaissance I found the place where the peasants buy their supplies." Herzog started. "I was assured by Fräulein Agnes that attacking and destryoing that place alone wouldn't do much, so I we have to wait a little and find out the bases on which the «hoi polloi»'s society stands."

Everybody looked at him in complete silence, even Rottenführer Bergen. Sascha chuckled:

"Auf Deutsch, bitte!" (In German, please!) He asked. Herzog rolled his eyes and snarled; there, beautiful speech ruined!:

"I'm going to find out the important structures for the peasants, and then we destroy them in a combined attack." He resumed and his soldiers cheered. He cast a superiority look at Bergen and then looked at his troops again. "For now we are going to stay in the mountains. Everybody to your posts. Sascha and Fritz, you stay here."

Sascha and Fritz exchanged a look while the others walked outside. Rottenführer Bergen trotted towards Herzog, with Michael and Joachim following him close and shaking their heads:

"Herr Standartenführer, how is Fräulein Agnes?" The younger officer asked. Herzog arched a hairless eyebrow:

"Fine, thank you." He replied:

"Give her my most heartfelt greetings." And Bergen walked away with his two soldiers trying not to burst into laughter. Herzog narrowed his eyes; the little bastard, trying to copy his chivalrous modes! The Standartenführer snorted and made his way towards Sascha and Fritz, hands behind his back; poor Bergen, he didn't have half of the culture Herzog had, that little phoney officer...

Herzog stopped in front of Sascha and Fritz and looked at them:

"I think you two deserve a day off; commanding and helping to command is exhaustive." He said, the shadow of a smile playing on the corners of his mouth. The younger soldiers widened their eyes:

"You're kidding me..." Sascha mumbled. "You can't do that!"

"I just did." And the Standartenführer walked outside, smiling for brief moments, until he found himself alone at the entrace of the cave. He looked in the direction of Agnes' house and felt his heart sting painfully.

At least he knew he would never walk alone again. He just needed to stop being too proud, but Herzog was sure Sascha would help him with that. And Agnes too.

* * *

Sascha and Fritz watched as Herzog simply walked away. Fritz slapped the back of Sascha's helmet:

"What the fuck was that?" He asked worriedly. Sascha slapped the back of his helmet too:

"Good old Herzog, I knew he was still in there!" The blue-eyed zombie replied happily and removed the helmet from his head, and did the same to Fritz. The brown-eyed zombie looked at his comrade, confused:

"So... you two finally talked? What happened?"

"Big tough guy with a fragile little heart, sad love story in which he came back and found his beloved with someone else." Sascha shrugged. "He was afraid we'd think him a loser."

"I wouldn't think that of him!" Fritz exclaimed, aggrieved, and Sascha messed his impeccably combed blonde hair:

"It's over, now we just have to make sure he has the guts to ask Agnes to be his wife." A huge smile spread on Sascha's lips."Enough of Herzog, let's talk about our day off."

Fritz made a face and tried to step back, but it was too late; he was already in Sascha's embrace... and he did little to free himself. The younger soldier ended up laughing when Sascha stumbled on his own forgotten helmet and they both fell on the ground.

* * *

**Weeeeeeeeeeeee, review?**


	21. Chapter 21

**Auhtor's note: **small chapter is small, sorry. *_* BUT NOW I HAVE A WEEK OFF BECAUSE IT'S EASTER AND THAT MEANS VACATIONS AND I CAN WRITE MORE, WO-HOOOO!

And thanks so much for the reviews, it really makes me happy to make people happy with what I write! :D

* * *

Sascha had just gathered all his courage to wake up Fritz when Herzog got in the bigger hollow of the cave, shaking some show off his officer cap:

"It's snowing, can you believe this country? Down there it's a beautiful sun, up here it's snowing!" The Standartenführer commented, carefully avoiding stepping on an abandoned uniform jacket that had to be Fritz, due to the bullet holes in the chest and back:

"What are you doing here?" Sascha hissed and widened his eyes, and looked around to look for something to cover his bare chest. Herzog chuckled:

"I live here, remember?"

"Can you please let me wake him up, this time?" The blonde-haired zombie asked as he dressed his shirt, or tried to; it was with the inside out. Herzog put the officer cap back on his head:

"You two can move to the «room next door» for tonight." He said. Sascha stopped fighting with the shirt and frowned, narrowing his eyes. He took a quick look at Fritz, making sure he was still sleeping, and then looked back at the Standartenführer:

"I can't tell if you're being generous, a good fellow or a flatterer." He replied. Herzog rolled his eyes and started to walk back and forth; he had just discovered how that was, falling asleep and waking up with that someone. And he was still feeling guilty for waking up Fritz that other time, and he knew they hadn't repeated the little adventure again. He shrugged and stopped, looking at the torch on the wall, above Sascha and Fritz:

"I just thought it would be nice." He finally said. Sascha moved away from Fritz, stood up and dressed his shirt correctly:

"I wonder what happened between you and Agnes." The younger soldier said with a smile. "To make you think like that."

"I have feelings, you know? I even had them before I met her!"

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer!" Trying to be serious, Sascha seized Fritz carefully and took him to the other hollow, then came back to pick up his tie, uniform jacket and helmet and Fritz's shirt, jacket, tie and helmet. Herzog rolled his eyes and went outside, right on time to see his troops gathering at the entrance to get in the cave. The Standartenführer counted and watched them getting in the cave. He was about to sit outside, on a small rock, when someone called him:

"Herr Standartenführer, bitte!" (Colonel, sir, please!) And the Doctor wriggled a little. Herzog rose both eyebrows; he had completely forgotten about him. He withdrew his SS dagger and made his way towards the Doctor:

"It's twice Sascha ties you outside, you should really stop doing whatever you do to annoy him this much." Herzog suggested as he cut the ropes. Guts. Rope-guts. The Doctor stumbled a little before he regained his ballance:

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer..." He grumbled under his breath and got in the cave.

Herzog sat near the entrance of the cave and looked up, to the dark sky, and frowned when a snowflake landed on his nose. He shook his head, snarling, and crossed his arms and looked ahead, thinking; all the recent happenings had diverted him from his initial plan that was find the missing loot, avenge his men and find his missing Mauser. Well, next time he met Agnes, he would remind her about the loot, and ask her about important structures that could be destroyed. While waiting for such vital information, Herzog and his men would go hunt for possible threats, also known as frozen Soviets, and destroy them, and maybe find his Mauser.

That sounded like a good way to pass the time without Agnes.

But then Herzog frowned; imagining Agnes would have time for him at least once a week, time that they could spent together at her place...that would imply leaving his men. And even if it was just for a short period of time, that could compromise his main objective; avenge them. Which meant he was going to fail them... again!

Which meant he couldn't afford staying with Agnes every week.

Herzog howled lowly and sadly, and wrapped his arms around himself, feeling sick like he had never felt before. He spent the whole night outside, lost in sorrowful thoughts and torturing himself again with impossible 'ifs', and he was so focused on that he only noticed Sascha when the younger soldier placed a hand on his shoulder. Herzog nearly jumped out of his skin, lost ballance and slipped from the rock where he was sitting to the ground. Sascha laughed and clapped his hands:

"Let's do it again!" He suggested. Herzog growled something and managed to sit on the rock again, with a lopsided officer cap on his head:

"It's not even dawn, what are you doing here?" The Standartenführer asked. Sascha shrugged, sitting on the ground in front of him:

"Fritz woke up and was a little... snappy... I told him you'd been a good fellow and let us stay in your place, but seems he got some kind of trauma with you... knowing about us." Sascha wiped to the back of his hand the excess of blood that came out of his mouth as he spoke. "He's planning to come out among the others and expect you won't see him."

"I didn't mean to cause you troubles!" Herzog mumbled disappointedly; seemed every time he tried to help things would come out exactly as the opposite of his initial intentions... Sascha just shrugged again:

"Fritz is walking sass, but he can be shy too. That's one of the things that make him so cute." He smiled. "Enough of talking about me. I forgot to give you something yesterday... but as soon as I give it to you, you have to tell me what you were thinking about."

Herzog frowned, but nodded, and watched as Sascha slipped a hand into a pocket of his jacket and showed him a Mauser with remains of black paint. The Standartenführer smiled and stretched out his hand, and the younger soldier gave him his pistol:

"Dietrich's stick found it." He said. "Now that you have something to play with, I want to know about your thoughts."

"You do are annoying, do you know that?" Herzog asked, examining his old Mauser and aiming an invisible target at his right. It would be amazing if it still worked!:

"I'm not letting you walk alone again. Now, spit it out."

"Fine..." Herzog grumbled and kept aiming at invisible targets, feeling like a young recruit again holding a fire-weapon for the first time. "Fräulein Agnes suggested that we should be quiet for a while before attacking again. In the meantime, we can look for some frozen Bolsheviks in the mountains and make sure they won't bother us again."

"Einfach toll!" (Just great!) Sascha exclaimed and started to rock himself back and forth:

"Then I thought the next time we met, I could ask her about important structures that we could destroy. But spending time with her might affect our missions to destroy the peasants, which means I can't spent that much time with her and-"

"Waitwaitwaitwait..." Sascha stopped rocking himself and widened his blue eyes. "What do you mean with that? Won't you two have more romantic vacations?"

"It was not a romantic vacation, it was... mutual helping!" Herzog straightened his tie, embarassed. "And no, I can not afford the luxury of staying at her house and leave my men alone in a cold cave to face the foe."

"Herzog, do you have a problem with being happy?" Sascha removed his helmet and pulled his own hair. "Do you?" But Herzog just smiled sadly:

"Sascha, if you were a little older and a little more experienced, you would know about the importance of responsability and priorities..."

"Well, I might not have half of the experience on the battlefield you have... but I know fucking more than you when it comes to relationships." The younger soldier grumbled and crossed his arms. Herzog frowned. "And I know that when you like someone, even if it's just a friend, you better spend some quality time with them... otherwise you'll lose them. Tell me Herzog, do you want to lose Agnes, too?"

The Standartenführer just looked at his Ordonnanz, silently, and felt his frozen blood heat up a little:

"Fräulein Agnes is a decent young lady with moral values and principles." He stated, because Erika clearly hadn't had those. Sascha facepalmed:

"How would you feel if it was Agnes not wanting to spend time with you?" He asked patiently. Herzog blinked his eyes, slowly:

"Very sad...?"

"That's how she'll feel. Do you want her to grow tired of your absence and let some douchebag take your place? Bergen, for example." And before this Herzog frowned; Agnes was his, that wasn't going to happen!:

"Fräulein Agnes would never-"

"Not everybody is apparently made of Krupp steel, like you. And in case you didn't notice she's a human being, a woman, and those are cuddly creatures. So don't be stupid and don't make the same mistake again." And Sascha added slowly, like he was talking to a particularly dumb child. "Cherish those who are close to you, be them friends, or comrades, or lovers, whatever... Verstehen Sie mich, Herr Standartenführer?" (Do you understand me, colonel sir?)

Herzog nodded shyly, feeling utterly embarassed and ridiculously stupid. Maybe Sascha was right... and afterall, he deserved that, right? Some little quality time with Agnes, watching British comedy on her laptop while sitting (cuddling) next to her on the inflatable mattress... He sighed:

"But... how will everybody react?" He mumbled, fiddling his fingers nervously. "I mean... I'm your Standartenführer, I shouldn't..."

"There's more life besides the army, you know that?"

"We are dead, Sascha!"

"I move, I talk, I think, I'm not dead!" Sascha smiled widely. "I exist, therefore I think!"

"I think, therefore I am..." Herzog corrected with a chuckle. "'Cogito ergo sum'."

"Whatever, Herr Encyclopedia." The younger soldier laughed and shook his head. "Goddammit, you're worse than Dietrich!"

"No I'm not..." Herzog mumbled, looking at his hands. "I just... if feels wrong, going to a comfortable house and leave you all in this place... and it feels really weird thinking that everybody might suspect Fräulein Agnes is a dear friend, and not only a subordinate anymore..."

"You've done enough for us, it's time for you to do something for yourself. And believe me, the thought of you and Agnes is really amusing, no one would make fun of you. But we can always cut the Doctor's tongue off, and Bergen's!"

Herzog smiled a little and shook his head.

* * *

To start with, Agnes had plenty of bureaucratic work to do; inventories to check the missing weapons and if they were replaceable, inventories on the deactivated weapons and on those that were still functional (Herzog would be really pleased with these) and planning activities. The first week was hell; Agnes' formation was about finding buried objects and bring them to the surface, and then contextualize them in a pre, proto or Historical period. She knew nothing of museology, but the director of the local museum didn't mind about that. The second week was a little better and Agnes was really pleased with the new exhibition she prepeared all by herself. _I just hope Hein won't take anything else from here... And if he dares to, he's soooo going to clean the mess..._, the young woman thought at the end of the day, watching the exhibition room with every thing in place, like a zombie razzia had never happened.

At the end of the third week she was finally given a new schedule and presented to a colleague who would stay at the museum during her days-off. That day Agnes drove home happily and on the next morning, a Saturday, she dressed her winter clothing and made her way up the snowy mountain. She found no one outside the cave, so she got in and managed to reach Herzog's little private chamber without going face-first on a stalagmite. He wasn't there. Agnes frowned and made her way outside, and was about to call him (because what could possibly go wrong by yelling someone's name on a snowy mountain?) when a big, cold and heavy gloved hand grabbed her shoulder:

"Are you lost?" Herzog asked with a smile that he hoped wasn't silly, or stupid, or too big and obvious. Agnes turned around to face him and she smiled back, hoping it wasn't silly, or stupid, or too big and obvious. She thought about hugging him because damn!, she had missed him so much! But she suddenly had the feeling that they were being observed, and Herzog had made it clear he wasn't fond of public demonstrations of affection. So she crossed her arms:

"No, I just found exactly what I was looking for."

"Good." Herzog nodded politely, hands behind his back, before he couldn't stop himself from hugging Agnes. His Agnes, very his. "I am mostly pleased in seeing you again. Is your knee fine?"

"And you'll be most pleased with the news!" She clapped her hands excitedly, giving little happy jumps. Herzog had a hard time trying to stop himself from smiling. "I have the weekends free and at Mondays the museum is closed, which means I have at least 3 days to take you home. And yeah, knee's fine."

Home, the word echoed painfully in Herzog's mind, and his smile became bitter; he had no home, but a freezing grave. Yet he shook his head, allowing Agnes' happiness to infect him again:

"So, let's go? I have everything at home, I even have a really cool idea for your next appearence in public! And I really need your cooking skills, I'm so sick of sandwiches, I haven't have the time for proper food..." Agnes said, bouncing and gesturing. The Standartenführer just looked at her with amusement; all that happiness because of him! He nodded, but walked away, towards a cliff at the other side of the cave:

"I have to talk with Sascha first, it won't take long." He said, walking away. Agnes shrugged and looked around, to the snowy mountains around her.

Herzog stopped a few meters away from the border of the cliff and frowned, looking at the snow at his feet:

"Did you really think you could fool me?" He asked. Sascha's head popped out of the snow, leaving a small bloody trail behind. Sascha smiled innocently and licked away the blood on his lower lip. It was useless, though:

"How did you know I was listening?"

"Because I know you, Sascha Ritter!" Herzog sighed. "Well, since you heard, I believe you know what you have to do."

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer! And Sascha saluted enthusiastically. "Now go, lovebird."

Herzog growled and hurried to walk away from his Ordonnanz, because he didn't need Sascha to notice he was starting to blush.

* * *

**Weeeeeee, review?**


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's note: **thanks so much for the reviews! ;-; Really, it means a lot!

* * *

Agnes was so excited she was mixing Norwegian with German and talking way too fast and way too loud. Herzog ended up slipping a small apple into her mouth, making her shut up:

"There, eat and calm down a little." He said with a smirk. They were in the kitchen; the way home had been silent, Herzog had taken a shower and changed to a training suit and then had gone to the kitchen to help her with her lunch... and that was when Hell broke loose and Agnes started to talk excitedly about her first weeks at the museum.

And damn, an hyperactive Agnes was more distracting and confusing than bombs exploding not far from him.

He sighed, pleased with the sudden silence, and went back to his task of cutting vegetables. Agnes chewed the apple furiously and was done with it in a few minutes:

"As I was saying," She started again, this time a little calmer and checking the beef in the frying pan. "among the many inventories I had to do, there is one of functional weapons that are stored in the basement." Herzog looked at her, rising both eyebrows. "And the cool part is that I have the inventory in my laptop. Just like the forthcoming activities, and one of them might include someone you know." And this time Herzog frowned and stopped cutting the vegetables. Agnes smiled widely. "In August, in your birthday, there's going to be a special activity to celebrate the end of the Nazi power in this part of Norway. And the elderly people, those who decades ago attacked you and your guys, are going to gather at the museum and tell their story to the younger generations."

Herzog just stared at her while her words sank deep in his mind. Revenge! The perfect opportunity to revenge! Revenge on the murderes and on their families! What was left of his lips curved into an evil grin and Agnes couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine, even though she didn't know what caused that; if Herzog's grin, if the sudden fierce shine on his blue eyes. Slowly, he went back to his task, this time cutting the remaining vegetables slower:

"You do are a little box of surprises, Agnes; an archaeologist, a fighter, a spy... I wonder what else will I find out." He said in a husky growl. Agnes felt absolutely satisfied; there was someone who finally valorized her qualities!:

"You flatter me." She replied. "And Hein, it was supposed to be cubes of vegetables, not crumbs..." Herzog smiled innocently and handed her the cutting board and the knife, and she scraped what was left of the vegetables to another frying pan. "Didn't your mother teach you not to play with the food?"

The Standartenführer chuckled and washed his hands:

"I wasn't playing with the food."

"Just look at them, poor veggies! Cut into oblivion by someone who imaged them as elderly people!"

"You're a mind reader too?"

"No, you're just obvious..."

"Fine, I mistook your eggplant by a peasant." Herzog allowed himself to laugh and Agnes rolled her eyes, a smile dancing on her lips. She left the cutting board and the knife aside and made herself comfortable in Herzog's strong embrace. The young woman sighed, resting her head against the lower half of his chest; the top of her head barely reached the middle of his chest. The feeling of freezing arms around her and the lack of heartbeat was already something natural for her, and she looked up:

"I don't have the details yet." She said. He shrugged:

"I have time for that."

"And I need you to teach me a few things about fire-arms and artillery pieces, because I don't remember much."

"With pleasure." He let her go and the young woman checked on the food in the frying pans again. "Now, let me tell you about my most glorious and fruitless hunt for Bolsheviks!"

* * *

That night it was Agnes' turn to have difficulties in sleeping; part of her wanted to sleep, because Herzog was finally there, next to her, filling the kind of weird and scary empty space on the mattress that Agnes didn't like at all... but there was a smaller part of her screaming that she was an assassin for telling Herzog about the activity with the elderly people. Afterall, that's what they were... elderly, undefended and fragile. She let out an annoyed sigh and started to trace circle-like patterns on Herzog's chest, her fingertips barely touching the fabric:

"Can't you sleep?" He suddenly asked, startling her. The circle-like patterns turned into an annoyed punch:

"Don't scare me like that!"

"Can't you sleep, mein Schatz? I told you not to eat all that chocolate for dessert..."

"It's not that..." She looked at his face, his eyes shiny in the dimness of the room, and then looked down again, feeling suddenly angry; she had dared to feel sorry for those other human beings! She, who had always claimed her dislike for the living, for the human species, the only species who made fun and humiliated those of their own kind. Those who had never offered her a helping hand, who had always considered her a freak. She felt sick and changed to a sitting position, old and forgotten emotions that had been kept at bay gnawing her with dagger-like teeth.

Herzog frowned and reached out for the flashlight besides his half of the mattress. He switched it on, pointing to the ceiling, and studied Agnes for some silent minutes. Then he rose a hairless eyebrow:

"Heavy conscience?" He asked, and hoped the sudden fear rising inside him wouldn't reach his voice and his face. Agnes looked at him, smiling nervously:

"It's stupid, I know..." She replied, confirming his fears.

Of course she would feel guilty sooner or later; she was a woman! And that was why women couldn't rule anything, they were driven by their feelings. All those years past and the Führer was still right, that was quite comforting to know. Herzog sighed; all he had to do was to carefully remind her none of the peasants deserved her pity, that she was part of the company and, most important, she was his.

And the Standartenführer wouldn't allow such a pitiful feeling to stand between him and his Agnes; his own musings on self-sacrifice for the greater good of his men were enough, he didn't need anything else.

He sat too and gently grabbed Agnes' chin, forcing her to look at him:

"Tell me, mein Schatz; do the people who did this to you," And using his other hand, he grabbed her wrist and touched the begining of a scar that hadn't been hidden by the barbed wire tattoos that crawled up her arms. He traced the full lenght of the scar. "deserve your sentiments?"

Just as he expected, she looked down:

"No..."

"Do the people who looked aside at you deserve your sentiments?"

"No..."

"So, why is that heavy conscience?"

"I don't know..." She looked back at him; he had a comprehensive smile:

"You are doing the right thing. Imagine how happy your friends, my soldiers, will be when they lay their hands on those murderers..."

Agnes bit her lower lip; Herzog was right. She shook her head, dismissing the annoying feelings and voice, and laid down again. Herzog did the same and switched off the flashlight, and cradled her against his large chest:

"Sleep, shall we?" He asked. Agnes nodded, closing her eyes with a smile.

* * *

"I have a brilliant idea!" Agnes exclaimed as she took a mouthfull of pancakes with honey. Herzog, sitting at the table across her, rose his eyes from the laptop, where he was checking the fuctional weapons:

"Bad omen..." He grumbled. The young woman pretended not to listen to him:

"You could help me to practice Systema and Sambo. Just to keep in shape." She suggested. This time, the Standartenführer closed the laptop, frowning:

"You mean... fighting?"

"Yes! We have plenty of space in the living room and-"

"I can't fight you, that would be your end! A very painful end!"

Agnes made a face, indignated:

"I was managing by myself until that tricky bastard stabbed my knee, so you better believe when I tell you I'm a good opponent!"

"Uh, I'm scared." Herzog mocked, grinning widely. He laughed before her supposedly threatening look. "I don't want to hurt you. And I don't want you to get hurt; you can't strain your knee, and I remember you telling me something about your shoulders and an ankle."

"Come on, just a little fight! I woke up in the mood for a good fight!"

"No." And Herzog was suddenly uncomfortable when she narrowed her eyes:

"Fine... Then you can help me with my manicure, and then you can help me to make blue locks on my hair, and then you can help me to choose clothes to-" Herzog's hand covered her mouth, and he was most annoyed:

"I'm going to kick your ass for that!" He snarled. Agnes just smiled, finished her pancakes and nearly dragged him to the living room, where they pushed the boxes with her things and the puffs aside. The young woman thought fighting Herzog would be something like:

-attack

-find herself on the floor unable to move

She didn't really expected Herzog to just stay there with his arms crossed and dodge, and let her get tired and really annoyed. And or her blows were too slow, or the big and heavy zombie was too fast. Agnes grew tired after the first 5 minutes and fell over a puff, upset:

"That wasn't kicking my ass..." She grumbled. Herzog sat on the puff next to her, amused:

"I didn't mean it literally, I have no fault you misunderstood my intentions..." He replied, his arms still firmly crossed; he knew their play-fight, if he had agreed with it, would end with Agnes on the floor and with him on top of her... but he really didn't know if he would manage to control himself and not kill her. It would be too tempting, and he really needed her alive. Agnes rolled her eyes. "Look at you; you didn't even hit me and are breathless... But I'm so big, how did you manage to miss?" He laughed, truely entertained. She just cursed under her breath and Herzog took some time to look at her, feeling the silly fondness written all over his face; he liked her, he liked her too much. He had to avoid all the extra contact she tried to have with him, because he knew he was walking on thin ice and one wrong step would cost him dearly.

In fact, cost them dearly. Poor, innocent Agnes, completely unaware of the danger before her. Or maybe she did like to play with fire and wasn't really worried with scars. She was very lucky that Herzog was always responsible.

The young woman stood up:

"Guess I'll take a shower." She said, heading to the bedroom to pick up clothes. "And then you're going to help me with my glorious manicure and with my hair."

"Why do you want to dye your hair?" Herzog asked and followed her into the room, then sat on the mattress and reached out for a German article about longswords that Agnes had printed for him:

"To make something different, I'm tired of seeing my hair like this." Agnes replied, looking at him. She met a most epic frown:

"You are beautiful like that, you need no colorful cosmetics." The Standartenführer grumbled. He then noticed what he had just said and hurried to focus on that very interesting article about Medieval weapons. Agnes just blinked, surprised, and turned around to go to the bathroom.

She didn't make the blue locks on her hair.

The following day was calmer, and Agnes tried to teach Herzog how to play a FPS game but gave up when he went on an endless rambling about how the entire thing clearly had been created by someone who had never shot someone, or been shot, or been in a war. The Standartenführer then asked her about things he could destroy, so Agnes helped him to make a list:

-the local market

-the supermarket

-the gas station

-the power plant

-the roads

After doing the list, they both carefully planned an operation to take from the museum a few functional weapons, especially grenades. Agnes considered teaching him how to make a Molotov cocktail, but maybe she should leave that for another time.

* * *

Herzog already knew he wasn't going to feel good when he had to leave again, and he was more than irritated when he discovered he was right. He told himself that he didn't need to be like that because in a few days he would be with Agnes again, but he just couldn't help it. He wondered if she felt like this too, and wished she did.

He found Sascha standing at the entrance of the cave, hands behind his back and looking ahead. A huge smile grew on the younger soldier's lips and he saluted:

"Heil Hitler, lovebird!"

"I'm considering in cutting off your tongue, my little bastard..." Herzog replied and saluted. Sascha shrugged:

"Then how am I supposed to give you advice?"

"You might have a point..." The Standartenführer smiled. "Everything alright?"

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer!"

"Gut."

"What's our next move?"

"I'm working on that. In fact... Fräulein Agnes and I are working on that."

"When are you two going to marry?"

"Dismissed..."

"Aw, come on!" Sascha laughed. Herzog rolled his eyes and sighed:

"Is Fritz still upset with you?" He asked. Sascha's smile died instantly and Herzog frowned lightly. "Is he, Sascha?"

"That little sadistic idiot... He doesn't even let me hug him. How can he deny me a hug, I'm so cute!"

"Well, instead of nosing around in my private life you could be trying to redeem yourself..."

"Ha, you said 'life'!" Sascha exclaimed and started to run to the eastern slope. "You can actually give some good romantic tips, thank you!"

Herzog just rolled his eyes.

* * *

Fritz was perfectly camouflaged among the dead trees, no one would ever notice him. But Sascha wasn't 'no one', so he easily spotted his comrade and went to sit next to him:

"Herzog's back." He said, taking off his helmet. "Acney's fine."

"Toll." (Great.) Fritz replied. Sascha frowned and unfastened the chinstrap of Fritz's helmet, then pulled it off his head:

"Why are you still grumpy? Didn't it feel good to sleep a little longer with me? Why don't you hug me, leave alone look at me!" Fritz looked at him, annoyed. "What did I do wrong this time?"

The brown-eyed zombie sighed and looked down, to his hands resting on his knees. He didn't move away when Sascha took hold of his hands and squeezed them affectionately:

"I just... I... I know you and Herzog are very close, but... sometimes I'd like you and I had our own secrets. I'd like to look at Herzog without having to feel embarassed because you just tell him right away what's going on between us. And that sucks." Fritz finally moved his hands away and made a big snowball. "It was good to sleep with you and wake up with you, but damn, did he really had to know about that? Coulnd't it have been just a moment for the two of us?"

And to show all of his frustration, Fritz threw the snowball against Sascha's face. The blue-eyed zombie just sighed, but as he felt the freezing snow going to his lungs he started to cough and to shake the snow off his face. Fritz was already making another snowball:

"And I know you're not the most brilliant guy in the company, nor the most romantic one, and you can't even be serious for some fucking 5 minutes! And of all the people in the world I had to fall for you, you fucker!" He threw the new snowball at Sascha, still coughing snow off his lungs. "And you promised me that once the war was over we'd move in together, just the two of us! Now I'm stuck in a fucking cave full of fucking people, and you let Herzog stick his nose into the only bloody moment we had for ourselves!"

"Don't you fucking raise your fucking voice, and let me fucking tell you again that it was Herzog who allowed us to spend the rest of the fucking night like that!" Sascha's turn to grab a handful of snow and press it over Fritz's face. "That was fucking super from him, I can't picture anyone else doing that for us! I can't picture anyone else not fucking judging us! And if you're so worried about what our Standartenführer might think of us you shouldn't have let me kiss you in the first place! I didn't force you to anything!"

"Why can't you fucking understand I just want some fucking 5 minutes ALONE with you?" Fritz grabbed two handfuls of snow, but Sascha held his wrists before he could do anything else. The smaller zombie struggled a little, and they ended up rolling down the slope, their legs tangled and catfighting:

"Why didn't you just fucking say that? I'm a fucking simpleton, I'm no brilliant and poetic and romantic mind that reads all of your fucking body-language and guesses exactly WHAT I did wrong!" Sascha yelled as they rolled:

"And why do I always have to fucking say stuff, why can't you fucking think about that? You don't need to be a fucking genius to know you fucking messed up!"

"I fucking messed up?"

"You fucking messed up!"

They rolled to a small cliff and fell. The cliff wasn't very high and luckily the snow at its base was deep enough to protect them from the rocks. They let go each other during the fall and they fell a few meters away from each other. Sascha was the first one to crawl out of the hole he made in the snow when he landed, taking useless deep and desperate breaths, and looking around with wide blue eyes:

"Holy shit, Fritz? Fritz, are you fine? Where the fuck are you?" He asked, stumbling out of the hole and searching for his comrade. He found the place where Fritz had fallen and jumped into the hole, to find the younger soldier huddled at the bottom. Sascha pulled Fritz to a comforting embrace and kissed the top of his head. "Did you break anything?"

"No."

"Are you fine?"

"I guess so."

They looked at each other. Sascha's worried expression slowly faded away and he sighed, relieved, and Fritz nestled against his chest. A few minutes went by, until Fritz broke the silence:

"I shouldn't have reacted like that..."

"It feels so fucking good to be right once in a lifetime!" Sascha smiled, running his fingers through Fritz's blonde hair. The smaller zombie chuckled:

"We're dead, Sascha..."

"Shut up, do not question greatness."

* * *

**Weeeeeeeeee, review? :D**


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's note: **only a few days ago (while watching DS 1 and 2 with a friend) I noticed that Herzog has a bloody wound badge 2nd class... ;-; Must give him his badge right away!

* * *

"Ah, finally!" Herzog exclaimed annoyedly. "I was wondering where your excellences could possibly be!"

"It started to snow and it took us a while to find our helmets." Sascha excused, trying to stop smiling. Fritz nodded, doing his best to look serious. Herzog just rolled his eyes:

"Anyway... I have a mission for the two of you." He said. The younger soldiers windened their eyes. "Tomorrow you are going with Fräulein Agnes to the museum and start a «rescuing operation». You have to retrieve these items." And he removed a folded paper from a pocket of his trench coat and handed it to Sascha. The blonde-haired zombie unfolded it and smiled:

"I thought I'd never see this beautiful handwriting again! Uh, grenades! What's in your mind, this is quite a lot of stuff!"

"You'll see..." Herzog replied with an innocent grin that was everything but innocent. Fritz took a loot at the list:

"Won't the peasants notice there are weapons missing?" He asked:

"We shall simulate an assault after we have the weapons." Herzog said and puffed his chest proudly. Sascha folded the paper again and slipped it into a pocket of his jacket, smiling excidetly:

"Holy shit, a cool mission! Where does Acn-I mean Agnes, lives?"

"I'll show you tomorrow. Now, get inside." And Herzog tilted his head towards the cave.

* * *

Agnes was chewing a mouthful of cereals and combing her hair when someone knocked at the door. She frowned; the someone was knocking «The Sailors' Chorus» from The Flying Dutchman. That could only mean Sascha and Fritz were already there. The young woman hurried to open the door before they decided to sing too.

As she opened the door, two smiling SS soldiers stepped in right away and closed the door after them:

"Acnes!" Sascha exclaimed, raising his arms:

"With a mighty spoon!" And Fritz raised his arms too:

"Let's eat her breakfast!"

"Let's eat her breakfast, weeeee!" And both soldiers stormed into the house, running into the bathroom, then into the bedroom, and finally into the kitchen. Agnes just watched, shocked, with the spoon handle coming out of her mouth, feeling like a hurricane had just gotten in through her door:

"What is this?"

"This smells good!"

"Look, it's colorful!"

"Eggs!"

The young woman ran into the kitchen; Sascha and Fritz were emptying the cupboards and the fridge's door was open. She let out a sad sigh and started by closing the door of the fridge, and then she sat at the table to finish breakfast before any of the zombie soldiers did something to her cereal bowl. When they were done emptying the cuboards, they shoved everything inside again and turned around to face her, grinning widely:

"So, this is the love nest!" Fritz commented. Agnes' eyes shot daggers at him:

"Now that we know the location, we can spy on the lovebirds!" And Sascha made a little victory dance. Agnes drank the milk and stood up, making her way to the sink to wash the bowl and the spoon:

"If I wasn't in a hurry..." She hissed. But she had to admit, she liked those two, and now that she knew what they had been through she couldn't help but feel sympathy for them:

"Nice clothes!" Fritz said; Agnes was using black skinny jeans and a large black t-shirt. "Herzog would like those."

"You better shut up right there!" The archaeologist replied and trotted to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Sascha and Fritz followed her:

"Would he like those on her or those off her?" Sascha asked. With a frown, Agnes slammed the door on their faces. They just laughed. The young woman came out of the bathroom little latter and went to put on her boots, dress her jacket and grab her bag:

"Now, hurry up and behave!" She said and opened the door. Sascha and Fritz ran outside, doing as much noise as possible.

After what felt like an eternity, Agnes managed to hide them under a blanket in the big and spacious back of the jeep and drove away to the museum:

"I had no idea women could drive!" Sascha exclaimed:

"She's going to crash us..." Fritz opined:

"Herzog promised me you were going to behave!" Agnes cried sadly, then noticed a helmet-covered head peeking from under the blanket and turning to look at the window. "Sascha, get under the blanket again, people will see you!"

"What people? It's still dark and there's only us on the road!" The blue-eyed zombie replied. "And we are behaving, Acney!"

She just sighed tiredly. A few hours later she finally parked her jeep in front of the museum, and turned around on her seat to look at the two Nazi zombies:

"Now... wait here while I turn off the surveillance cameras. If someone asks anything I'll say there was something wrong with the electricity and so they weren't working." Both soldiers nodded and she left. Little later she came back and opened the doors for them, and the two soldiers ran into the museum before someone showed up. Agnes trotted after them and locked the door:

"Ok.. now, the weapons are in a basement underground. Do you have the list?" She asked, looking for a key among some others that were hanging on a large metal ring. Sascha removed the list from his pocket and waved it in the air. "Don't take anything else, are we understood?"

"Are there any medals?" The blue-eyed zombie asked. "Wound badges, to be more precise."

Agnes frowned, and found the key she was looking for. She made her way behind the counter and opened a trap door on the floor:

"Yes, a few. Why?" And before she could even instruct them, Fritz was already going downstairs. Sascha kneeled next to her, in front of the opening of the trap door:

"Because I want to give Herzog a medal." He explained. Agnes made a face:

"He doesn't like medals."

"I fucking want to fucking give him a fucking medal, Acney! At least a wound badge; you know what happened, he can't refuse one." And he jumped into the basement, landing on Fritz, who fell on the ground due to the unexpected weight on his shoulders. Agnes rolled her eyes:

"Fine, give him a wound badge! But just one! And be quiet down there, and you can't get out unless I call you, are we understood?"

"Jawohl!" Both soldiers exclaimed in unison. The young woman closed the trap door and went to open the museum to the public.

* * *

At the end of the day, after closing the museum and turning off the cameras again, Agnes opened the trap door. She didn't even need to call Sascha and Fritz, they came out immediately; Sascha carried rifles and machine-guns on his shoulders and had several ammo belts wrapped around his torso and waist, and all his pockets were full of ammo for the rifles and some for their Luger pistols, and Fritz carried two boxes of handgrenades, had ammo belts wrapped around him and all of his pockets were full of rifle and pistol ammo too:

"I feel so damn cool right now!" Sascha exclaimed, like the weight of dozens of rifles and machine-guns had no effect on him. Agnes lurked outside through a window:

"We have to be quick! I go first to open the jeep. Then Fritz comes and gets in, and then Sascha. Jawohl?"

"Jawohl!"

And things actually went pretty fine. Driving back home, Agnes couldn't help but feel a little excited; she was driving with real weapons in her jeep! And with people who could work with them! And there was no police in sight, and no one would ever know! Damn, being a spy, as Herzog had called her, was even cooler than being an archaeologist!

When they reached her place, the two zombies had no difficulty in taking profit of the woods surrounding her house and of the darkness of the twilight to take cover and run quickly across the forest area towards the snowy mountains. They kept running up the mountain, like their load was weightless, and when they reached the top of the mountain they were received like heroes by their comrades and Standartenführer. It was with great joy that the Nazi zombies collected everything into the cave and started to check the weapons they had always have with them, to make sure the pistols would finally work with the new ammo.

Sascha, Fritz and Herzog watched as the others carried everything inside. Then Herzog looked at them, smiling proudly with his hands behind his back:

"Gentlemen, you made me proud! Your devotion to the Führer's cause, to our fight for our Reich, will not be forgotten! Now, I can either promote the two of you or give you a day off."

The younger soldiers exchanged a look and Fritz blushed, looking down. Luckily for them Sascha was such a cheeky creature:

"After much deliberation, we pick up the day off. I understood I'm not ready yet to command, and it's way funnier to be a mere Soldat (soldier) and boss around when you're not."

"For some reason I'm not surprised." Herzog just shrugged, still smiling. Fritz trotted into the cave, his cheeks apparently still a little darker than the rest of his face, and Sascha stood outside with the Standartenführer:

"I have something for you." He said and looked for something in an inside pocket of his uniform jacket. Herzog arched an eyebrow. "Here." And Sascha showed him a silver Verwundetenabzeichen (wound badge), 2nd class. The Standartenführer frowned and shook his head, but Sascha was already attaching it to his black tie. "Silver for being wounded three or four times, or suffering loss of a hand, foot or eye from hostile action, partial loss of hearing, facial disfigurement or brain damage via hostile action. Your injuries from the Great War don't count for this one, but I know you got some pretty scars in Poland in spite of your stubbornness of never letting me patch you up-"

"Those were just mere bullet scratches!"

"-and here in Norway you got that beautiful gash on your face, but don't worry, you're still pretty-"

"Thank you for the compliment..."

"-and lets not forget the brain damage yourself, the unromantic bitch and your little shell of solitude caused to you." Sascha finished and gave a step back to admire the medal on Herzog's tie. This time the Standartenführer took a while to reply:

"It is no brain damage..." He mumbled finally. Sascha shrugged:

"Well, I thought that, since you don't want all the iron crosses you rightfully deserve because you lost someone else, you wouldn't mind if I gave you a wound badge, since wound bagdes are your own business."

"Hm, touche..." Herzog mumbled with a small smile. Sascha did a little victory dance and they both headed to the cave:

"Besides," Sascha chuckled and Herzog instantly knew what was coming. "women like men with medals. And Agnes is a woman."

"Oh my, you don't say!" The Standartenführer rolled his eyes. Sascha burst into laughter and Herzog understood he shouldn't have said that.

* * *

A few days later the Nazi zombies were gathered at the base of the hill where the museum had been built. It was still night and they were hidding among the trees and undergrowth. Herzog was lying on the ground, over his stomach, between two small bushes:

"We attack as soon as the Untermenschen leave the buses. I want no witnesses. Keep away from the windows; Fräulein Agnes said she could only turn off the surveillance cameras after we do our part." Herzog explained:

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer!" His troops replied. Herzog just nodded, pleased; that would be a most triumphant day!

They waited. The sunrise came slowly and the day started with a beautiful morning. Little knew the tourists who arrived at the museum what was waiting for them...

The tourists came in two buses, both from Finland. As they all gathered outside, listening to a quick explanation of the touristic guide about the place they were about to visit, the zombie soldiers attacked with Herzog leading them, and within a few minutes the thing was over. Leaving his men outside to make sure no one had escaped, Herzog made his way towards the door; Agnes opened it before he could reach it:

"Cameras are off and I already sounded the alarm." She said. Herzog smiled:

"What a sad coincidence..."

"Indeed... anyway, come here." And she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him inside. With a frown, Herzog followed her and was most surprised when Agnes handed him her pocket knife. "Cool medal, by the way. Now, Hein... stab me."

"Wie bitte?" (Excuse me?) Herzog asked, widening his eyes in sheer horror. "I can't do that to you, Agnes! Never!"

"What kind of terrorists would steal weapons and kill everybody but the curator? That's quite a big flaw!" Herzog just blinked; she was right, and he hadn't thought about that detail. Reluctantly, he held her knife. "Quick, before someone shows up!"

"I can't..."

"Hein Herzog, just do it!" The young woman insisted. Herzog was most disturbed and shook his head, trying to clear his mind; well, he didn't want her to feel pain. There was a small snow globe over the counter and he grabbed it:

"Turn around." He ordered. Agnes did so and he hit the back of her head, hoping that hadn't hurt much. She fell uncounscious on the floor and Herzog turned her over her back, and then aimed carefully to the muscular area between her clavicle and heart, and stabbed her there. She didn't even flinch and the Standartenführer was more than grateful for that. He left her knife sticking out of her body, to avoid a bleeding, and destroyed the trap door on the ground behind the counter with a kick. Then he ran outside.

His men were waiting and he signaled them to run, and soon the zombie soldiers and their leader were out of sight, protected by the forest.

* * *

Agnes woke up in the ambulance. Besides the paramedics, there was a policeman with her, the same that had found her after the Soviet incident. She felt a little dizzy and the back of her head ached, but she realized the ambulance wasn't moving, so that could only mean they were still at the museum. Then the young woman felt something sting right under her clavicle and looked down, to see a white gauze:

"You were lucky, again!" The policeman exclaimed as he noticed she was awaked. Agnes offered him a yellow smile. "Miss Hummel, right?"

"That's me." _The creep knows my name!_

"Only survivor, again."

"There's someone up there who must like me." She tried to sit, ignoring a paramedic who tried to stop her, and was most happy when she succeded. There was no serum bag attached to her hand, which was good. "Can I go home?"

"No you can't! You need further examination!" Another of the paramedics exclaimed. Agnes shrugged; she knew there was nothing else besides that little stab. And that stab couldn't be bad at all, the gauze wasn't stained with blood. Ignoring everything and everyone, she stood up and simply walked out of the ambulance:

"I feel good, thank you." She said as she managed to leave.

Outside the parking lot was full of policemen and bodies covered with plastics. The police agent trotted after her:

"You can't go to the crime scene!" He exclaimed. "And I need to ask you a few things!"

"Fine..." Agnes stopped and turned around to face him. He had his notebook and pencil ready. "It should be... around 10 a.m., I was expecting these tourists. They're all from Finland. I heard the buses coming and I went upstairs to open the doors to the exhibition. Then I heard a lot of screams and came downstairs to see what was happening. I only remember a man with a balaclava coming to me, so I thought it was a smart idea to try to defend myself with my knife. Too bad, he was stronger and I think he knocked my head before stabbing me, but I can't remember very well." She told. Damn, she could be a writer! "Also, I think there's something wrong with the surveillance cameras, the system has been shutting down lately. And I presume I won't see my knife again...?"

"I'm afraid you won't, we need to find fingerprints. And I have to mulct you for walking around with a weapon..."

"I have the license in my backbag." Agnes replied, raising an eyebrow. The police agent hesitated, but he ended up nodding:

"Ok, so I'm not going to mulct you..."

"Well, what did I survive this time?"

"Many weapons were stolen. Functional weapons. Who knew about those?"

"Me, my colleague, my boss and the military personnel that comes by once in a while to check the stuff."

The young woman looked around and noticed a car arriving, and a man coming out of the car; it was the director of the museum. Agnes smiled to the police agent and started to walk away:

"My boss, I probably need to talk to him. " She excused.

* * *

Some hours later Agnes was driving back home, with a huge smile stamped on her face; nothing like 'running away' from the paramedics, from the authorities, from the reporters and leave her boss promising her a generous salary increase.

The moment she came out of her jeep, a pair of strong and cold arms embraced her from behind:

"How are you feeling?" Herzog whispered next to her ear. Agnes giggled:

"Fine. It doesn't hurt much, thanks to your expertise." She assured, raising a hand to stroke Herzog's face. "My boss gave me two weeks for «recovering», will you stay?"

"Aber ja!" (Of course!) Herzog exclaimed. Agnes unlocked the door of the hourse and they got in.

* * *

**Weeeeeee, review?**


	24. Chapter 24

Agnes absolutely loved the feeling of Herzog's fingers running through her hair. And it would be perfect if he left the bloody magazine aside for some 10 minutes and paid her all of his attention, instead of using her head to place the magazine and read. Or maybe that was well done for her, for resting her head on his legs when she knew perfectly that when he was sitting on the mattress he used to leave the magazine on his lap.

Then the bell rang. Agnes sighed:

"Ignore it." Herzog suggested. But the young woman stood up and went to open the door. It was the policeman from the day before and Agnes rose an eyebrow, surprised:

"Miss Hummel, how are you feeling?" He asked with a smile. Agnes tried to smile back:

"Better, thank you." _And really creeped out, why did you show up at my door?_ "Is everything fine?"

"Yes, I just came by to say 'hi'."

"Oh... Hi, then!" She realised she really wanted to slam the door on his face, but that would only bring her problems. "Do you already know who killed all those innocent people?"

"Not yet... But justice will be made!" The policeman assured, still smiling. "I'm Erik."

"Oh, nice. I'm sorry, but... I have a... frying pan... with food... so... Do you need anything else?"

Erik was a little taken aback, but he ended up taking a small paper from his pocket and handing it to her:

"We'll need your testemony again. Next week at 10 a.m., in that adress." He explained. Agnes nodded:

"Sure. Bye!" And she locked the door.

When she went back to the bedroom Herzog had his magazine closed and his arms crossed, and he looked suspiciously at her:

"Where you talking to a man?" He asked. Agnes couldn't help but laugh and sat beside him. "And why did you take so long?"

"It was just a policeman, he gave me the adress of the policestation. I'll have to go there next week to tell my tragic survival story again." The young woman laid down, resting her head on his legs. "Are you jealous, Hein?"

"Do I look someone who gets jealous?" He grumbled and started to stir her hair again. Agnes just smiled. Herzog rolled his eyes and decided that the barbed wire tattoos on her neck were more interesting than her hair; he wasn't jealous, he just took good care of what was his!

And Agnes was his.

And if he had to kill the concurrence, he would! And he would make sure the concurrence had a slow, horrible, painful death! And then he would revive them, and kill them again! With another slow, horrible and painful death! And revive them! And kill them! Until there was only an unrecognizable pile of bloody pulp!

The feeling of Agnes' hand on his good cheek brought him back to reality and he looked down, leaning in to the touch. He wanted to say something, but he felt like there was nothing good enough to say, nothing that could explain what he was feeling in that exact moment. Herzog found himself leaning in towards Agnes, their faces closer and closer, and he swore he could feel and hear his heartbeat. He nuzzled her nose affectionately and she smiled, and it was such a perfect scene!

Then her cellphone rang.

Agnes widened her eyes and moved away:

"Sorrysorrysorry... oh, it's my boss! I have to answer..." She excused, smiling sadly. She picked up her phone and went to the living room.

Herzog blinked his eyes, slowly, and he felt his frozen blood heat up, and his cheeks were hot too, and he clenched his jaw; his beautiful moment ruined by a piece of technology! Well, not exactly by the piece of technology, but by someone else who also had technology!

He pinched the bridge of his nose, bad-mooded beyond repair; oh, if only he didn't need Agnes alive... if he could just kill her, there would be no more interruptions of people and technology!

_Well done, what do you think you are?_, hissed the voice in the back of his mind, _You don't even have lips!_. Herzog snarled and touched what was left of his lips, _Halt den Mund!_ (Shut up!), he told the voice. But the voice was right... again. He couldn't just... kiss Agnes with that miserable excuse of lips, it would be disgusting and definitely not the beautiful and sweet first kiss he was still waiting for... and that Agnes was waiting for too. With a sad sigh, Herzog decided to go back to reading the magazine. Agnes came little later and sat next to him, smiling expectantly. Herzog tried to sound casual:

"So... what did your boss want?" He asked. He was her boss too, by the way; she was still his archaeologist, and spy... Agnes' smile died. She made herself comfortable next to Herzog and decided to play a game in her laptop:

"He just wanted to know if I was feeling better."

The Standartenführer just nodded.

* * *

Two weeks later he went back to the cave. Sascha was standing at the entrance and frowned, as he watched Herzog getting closer:

"You're leaving an imaginary trail of destruction behind you. I can see the flames, the smoke, the people screaming and even the little dark cloud floating over your head." The blonde-haired soldier said. Herzog frowned and slipped his hands into the pockets of his trench coat:

"Post. Now." He ordered. Sascha rose a blonde eyebrow:

"Is everything fine with Agnes?"

"It is."

"Liar..."

"I don't want to talk about it." Herzog snarled and turned his back at Sascha. He got in the cave... and of course that Sascha followed him:

"Did you two argue?"

"No."

"So, what's wrong?"

"This!" Herzog turned around suddenly, poiting his face, and Sascha nearly bumped on him. "This, this is wrong! There, are you happy? Can you stop nagging me for five minutes?"

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer!" And the blonde-haired zombie turned around and ran outside. He had someone else in mind to nag.

Sascha ran for a while, jumping over a few rocks and avoiding a few dead branches, until he reached the place where Fritz was hiding. He kneeled on the snow and started to dig. Fritz looked up at him, frowning:

"Give back my roof!" The younger zombie exclaimed. Sascha leaned into the hole and planted a soft kiss on Fritz's lips:

"I'm staying with little Acney for tonight. I'm the only one who can call Herzog «ugly»."

"Did she call him ugly?" Fritz arched an eyebrow. Sascha shook his head. "So, why's that?"

"Just tell him I'm camping, if he asks." And the blue-eyed zombie darted away, down the moutain:

"He could at least have given my roof back..." Fritz grumbled annoyedly, covering himself with snow again.

* * *

Agnes parked the jeep in front of her house and came out; nothing particularly exciting had happened at the museum, but she was feeling very tired for some reason. With a sigh, she made her way to the door and removed the house-keys from her pocket:

"Achtung, Umarmung!" (Attention, hug!) Someone exclaimed and a pair of arms wrapped aroung Agnes. The young woman yelped and started to kick when the person (dead person) who was hugging her lifted her from the ground:

"Oh, but I hate you so much! Put me down!" She kept struggling:

"Only if you guess who it is!"

"Sascha!"

"You're no fun..." And Sascha let her go. Agnes turned around, frowning, and was met by a smiling face. "And there might me some blood on your jacket... Nice jacket, by the way, is it leather?"

"What do you want...?" Agnes turned to face the door, opened it and got in. Sascha followed her. "Don't you dare walking around in my house with those filthy boots again!"

"You do are no fun!" The blue-eyed zombie grumbled and removed his boots, helmet and uniform jacket, making a small pile near Agnes' coat hanger. Then with a loud 'wo-hooooo!' he stormed into the house and threw himself over one of the puffs. Agnes just looked at him, still holding her bloodstained jacket. With a sigh, she hung it, removed her boots and crossed the living room to go wash her hands on the bathroom. Sascha, comfortably sitting on the puff, used his legs to push himself and the puff after Agnes:

"Acney, we need to talk." He said. The young woman came out of the bathroom and went to her bedroom:

"Don't you dare coming in here..." She said and closed the bedroom door. Sascha waited, and little later she came out wearing shorts and a large t-shirt. The zombie (and the puff) followed her to the kitchen:

"How were your two weeks with Herzog?" Sascha asked. The archaeologist opened the fridge and picked up an egg:

"Good, thank you."

"He said his face was wrong."

Agnes, who broke the egg into a frying pan, froze. She frowned and glanced over her shoulder, to the absolutely ridiculous Nazi zombie:

"What?" She asked, confused. Sascha nodded:

"He was pretty angry, and he said his face was wrong. Did you two kiss?"

Agnes smiled sadly and looked away, and the blue-eyed zombie rose a blonde eyebrow:

"No, we didn't... Don't worry about him doing stuff like that..." Agnes left the frying pan on the stove and turned around to face Sascha, who gestured dramatically:

"Why don't you people just tell me what happened? Why do I have to guess everything?" He crossed his arms. "Why didn't you kiss?"

"Because my phone rang, I had to take it and when I came back Herr Standartenführer had pouted." Agnes went to sit at the table and sighed, disappointedly. "And he spent all the time like that!"

They stayed in silence for a while. Sascha stood up and kicked the puff back to the living room, then pulled the other chair and sat at the table, across Agnes. He was smiling, but it was a sad smile. Agnes had never seen such a thing on his face:

"He thinks he's not worthy of kissing you. Because of that gash on his face. And you should keep an eye on that egg."

"I don't mind that gash on his face!" Agnes stood up and went to check the egg. It was ready and she cut a bread open and shoved the egg into it. Much for Sascha's amusement, she sounded utterly indignant. "If I did I-" She noticed the smile spread on the zombie's face and managed not to betray herself. Much. "-I would have never let him this close!"

"Tell him that."

"Yeah, right..." Agnes sat at the table again, munching her sandwich furiously. "Like someone would ever want me..."

"He wants! Look at you, such an adorably small and bad-tempered creature, with such nice tattoos and metal stuff sticking your of your ears and eyebrows!" Agnes' eyes darted daggers at Sascha, and he laughed. But then he became extremely serious, so serious the young woman frowned. "I'm serious. He's just like that..." Agnes sighed and looked sadly at the sandwich:

"I have no idea of what to do..."

"Have patience. I'm not lying, it's difficult!" Sascha chuckled. "Herzog... so badass yet so silly..."

"You're not staying over the night, right?"

"Aber ja!" (Of course!) Sascha wiped with a hand a drop of blood that fell on the table. "We could have a pillow-fight!"

"That's not going to happen..."

* * *

At dawn, the Standartenführer left the cave and decided to wander a little on his snowy domains. Lost in thoughts, again.

He walked down a slope, slowly, looking down, and suddenly he caught the sound of human voices carried by the wind. With a frown, he decided to follow the sound. In a small upland, over a wood of leafless trees, he saw a big tent, and near the tent there was man, holding a cup with a steamy drink, and a woman holding hands with a little boy. They seemed to be having fun, talking and kicking snow.

Herzog clenched his jaw and made his way through the small wood. The child got in the tent and the Standartenführer came to a halt, thinking if he should shoot them, or stab them, or strangle them, or kick them to death... and then the man and the woman kissed. And even a creature like Herzog could understand all the tenderness in that gesture.

The Standartenführer narrowed his eyes and growled lowly, feeling wrath closing over his dead heart. Wrath, and jealousy, and hate, and sorrow. He began to walk again, the couple was too busy kissing to notice the big Nazi zombie walking with large and silent strides towards them.

And when the couple broke the kiss it was too late; Herzog grabbed them by their necks in an iron grip, and they watched as each other died at Herzog's hands. Herzog let go the dead bodies and turned around to the tent; the little boy was still in there, peeking outside with wide blue eyes. He tried to hide in the tent again, but all Herzog had to do was drag him outside and he easily broke the boy's neck. Like someone throwing a paperball into the trash bin, Herzog threw the child's body near the parents.

The Standartenführer looked at the dead family, then he howled at the top his lungs and started to kick the dead bodies, blind with hate; at his feet laid one of the things he wanted the most and couldn't have. And Herzog wasn't fond of not having what he wanted. Howling and growling and screaming and kicking, the snow around him became red and an eye flew some meters away, leaving a bloody trail behind.

With a last frustrated roar, Herzog fell on his knees and wrapped his arms around his torso. He was shaking, taking in shallow and quick useless breaths, and shut his blue eyes painfully. There was someone approaching him, slowly, and moments later he felt a hand on his shoulder:

"I thought we weren't supposed to kill more peasents until things calmed down a little..." Sascha said. Herzog looked up at his Ordonnanz, all the wrath gone; there was only sorrow and pain left in his blue eyes:

"You are right..." Herzog replied and sighed. "We just have to bury them deep..."

"Jealous of this... hmm... I suppose this was a man...?" Sascha asked, trying to figure out what was that bloody pulp in the place where a human face should be. Herzog was already digging with his hands, and Sascha kneeled next to him and started digging too:

"A man, a woman and a child..."

"Jealous." The blonde-haired zombie confirmed. "You know, Agnes is a little upset with you; she said you pouted after she answered a phone call." Herzog stopped digging and cast Sascha a look. The young soldier just shrugged. "She said your face is fine."

"So, that's where you camped..." The Standartenführer grumbled and started to dig again:

"Today morning she said she would like to have breakfast in bed again, since you don't do anything more interesting than cooking for her." Sascha chuckled. "Just don't tell her I told you, she'd kill me!"

"That would be a shame..."

"So I strongly advise you to make her a very good breakfast this time..."

"I fail so much at this..." Herzog shook his head and laughed sadly. "If only I didn't need her alive, and if we hadn't made that deal..."

"You'd act exactly the same, Herr Just-Right." Sascha reached out for the nearest corpse and dragged it into the deep grave. "Can you please stod imagining silly reasons to keep the two of you apart?"

Herzog just looked at his Ordonnanz, thinking.

* * *

**Weeeeee, review?**


	25. Chapter 25

**Auhtor's note:** thanks so much for the reviews. ;-; So, so much!

* * *

It was Friday night and Agnes was starting to worry; usually Herzog was waiting for her at the door, but at the moment he hadn't showed up yet. _What if Sascha told him something he wasn't supposed to know?_, the young woman wondered, pacing back and forth in the living room. _Sascha, you bloody bastard..._

Then someone knocked at the door, and Agnes practially flew towards the door and opened it, realising too late she probably looked like a silly teenage girl. And there stood Herzog, with the saddest face in the world and holding a bunch of dead flowers:

"They were pretty and alive until I touched them..." He mumbled, looking down at his boots. That had been his most ridiculous and stupid idea. After trying to kiss Agnes, of course.

But the young woman just smiled and stepped aside to let him in:

"Nevermind, really." She assured him.

Maybe Sascha was right, afterall...

* * *

Time gone by, and Herzog and Agnes made a silent agreement on acting as normal and as friendly as possible, apparently both of them forgotten about the nearly-kiss episode.

But as August approached, Herzog really had no time for romanticism and even told Agnes that, for the greater good of the forthcoming operation, he would only be with her when the assassins of his men were slaughtered. Completely unaware of the young woman's disappointment, he was most enthusiastic in gathering his men around the map he had recovered in the museum and discuss a plan. Just like the good old times! And how he enjoyed to take his men to the terrain, at night, and make the necessary adjustments to the plan and not even asking for Rottenführer Bergen's opinion!

August the 10th arrived with incredible speed. Herzog was the first to go outside, as usual, and he had a vengeful grin on his face. The dawning red clouds seemed like an augury of the bloodshed that would happen in few hours. Indeed, it would be a glorious day!:

"So, I heard it's your birthday!" Sascha exclaimed and stood by Herzog's side. The Standartenführer looked at his Ordonnanz:

"Most importantly, it's our revenge day." He replied. Sascha rolled his eyes:

"Do you remember when you turned 41 and we shoved you into a house with 41 Poles and you just took 5 minutes to find them and kill them all?"

"I do." Herzog laughed, remembering that morning. "You could have given them weapons, that would have been way funnier."

"I presume you'd simply burn down the house, then." Sascha chuckled. "It's good to see you like this."

"It's good to feel like this." Herzog straightened his tie. "Get me Bergen, Michael and Joachim."

"Jawohl!" And Sascha trotted into the cave, and came back little later with Rottenführer Bergen, Michael and Joachim after him. The young Rottenführer cleared his throat:

"Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, Herr Standartenführer!" (Happy birthday, colonel, sir!) He saluted. Herzog rose a hairless eyebrow:

"Heil Hitler for you too, Rottenführer Bergen." He replied. Michael and Joachim exchanged an amused look. Rottenführer Bergen was a little taken aback. Sascha burst into laughter. "You are going to see if the Panzer is still working."

"Probably not... No vehicle can work decently with frozen fuel..." The Rottenführer mumbled:

"You could have left it behind, I didn't tell you to park that Panzer in my mountain." Herzog smiled. "No big deal if it doesn't work, that's what plan B is for. Now go, and you better be ready when I get there."

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer!" The Panzer crew saluted and left, running. Herzog looked at Sascha, still laughing lowly:

"Now get me your comrades, and tell Fritz he's going to be a sniper in case Bergen's tank doesn't work."

"Fritz with a gun, such a delightful sight!" Sascha exclaimed happily and went back to the cave.

And soon the Einsatzgruppe, the SS and the Wehrmacht soldiers were gathered in front of Herzog, in an attempt to be a perfect line formation. Fritz had a rifle hanging on his shoulder. Herzog was pacing back and forth, looking at his troops, and the Einsatzgruppe had the comforting feeling that everything was just like in the old days, when they were the young heroes of the Reich fighting in Poland:

"You all know what you have to do, am I right?" Herzog asked:

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer!" Answered a growling choir:

"I didn't expect otherwise. Vorwärts, marsch!"

* * *

When Herzog met Rottenführer Bergen, he wasn't really surprised in finding the tank crew without their armoured vehicle... again. The 3 crew members were utterly disappointed:

"The fuel didn't freeze at all, but the vehicle isn't working correctly, Herr Standartenführer." Rottenführer Bergen explained. Herzog rolled his eyes:

"I would like to know what went through that idiot head of yours to bring it up here. It would be way easier to retrieve it from the peasants again."

"Chill out, Herr Rottenführer." Sascha commented from the 1st line, right behind Herzog. Michael chuckled, but Rottenführer Bergen cast him a look and the one-eyed zombie stopped. The tank crew made their way to the rearguard and the Nazi battalion, headed by Herzog, that marched down the moutain again, just like they did months before to attack the museum.

Before reaching the base of the mountain Herzog sent two Wehrmacht soldiers ahead, like scouts, to see if the road was free. One of them came back to tell them the road was clear and the Nazi battalion ran down the mountain, crossed the road and hid in the forest. Few minutes later a lonely car appeared, but the driver didn't notice a thing. And, hidden among trees, undergrowth and shrubs, the Nazi battalion followed the road, running.

Some hours later they reached a crossroad. Herzog peeked from the forest and looked up, to the sun, then turned around to face his troops:

"Fräulein Agnes said the assassins are coming in one big bus. It will leave the main village at 2 pm, which means it will be here by 3 pm. Pity it will never arrive at 4 pm at the museum." He chuckled. "It's nearly 1 pm. Go to your posts. Fritz!" And the young soldier gave a step forward. "You're coming with me."

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer."

Everybody started to go to the previously defined posts. All but Rottenführer Bergen, who was looking up to the sun between the tree branches. Herzog frowned:

"Is there a problem?" He asked. The young Rottenführer nodded:

"I learned to use the sun as a watch too, and I think it's already half past 1 pm." And he couldn't help but step back when Herzog smiled:

"And how old are you, Rottenführer Bergen?"

"23." The younger officer replied, and stepped back again when Herzog's smile grew wider:

"Do you know how old I am?"

"N-no..."

"47. Are you sure you want to question me?"

"Entschuldigung, Herr Standartenführer!" (Pardon, colonel, sir!) And Bergen turned around and trotted to his post. Herzog rolled his eyes and looked back at Fritz, who was standing nearby:

"23, aren't you?" Fritz nodded. "That cheeky tank-rat bastard... Come on, you're my sniper today."

In their posts, the Nazis waited. Herzog and Fritz were lying over their stomachs, by the roadside, under two bushes. Herzog was keeping an eye on the road using his binoculars.

Some time later and after a few lonely cars and trucks, he saw a bus appearing in the horizon. He smiled:

"What time is it, Fritz?" He asked, and the young soldier looked up, to the sun, and frowned. He had to use his hand to count the time:

"3 pm, Herr Standartenführer." The brown-eyed zombie said. Herzog nodded:

"You've always been pretty good at shooting, even without a scope. Do you still remember how the coordinates work?"

"Ja, Herr Standartenführer."

"Gut." Herzog looked into the binoculars again, and started to tell Fritz the coordinates. The young soldier frowned, focusing, feeling the weight of responsabilty on his shoulders. Herzog said the last coordinate and he pressed the trigger, aiming at the indicated direction.

* * *

The bus driver sighed, tired of the stories the 20 elderly people, men and women, were telling about the war. But when they started to say that Herzog and his men still haunted the place he concluded those poor old people surely had something wrong with their heads.

And that was his last thought; a bullet broke the windshield and lodged right between his eyes. The dead driver couldn't stop the bus from yawing and the elderly people screamed as the bus went off the road and bumped on a tree, stopping.

Herzog stood up:

"Fast and efficient!" He ordered his men. When the soldiers who were at the other side of the road joined their comrades on the side where the bus was, they formed a small circle around the bus. Herzog punched the door open and stepped aside, to let in first the soldiers of his Einsatzgruppe. He followed them just for the pleasure of watching the peasants die by the hands of the ones they thought dead and buried in the mountains. The rest of the troops stood outside, making sure no one would escape and keeping an eye in the surroundings.

Inside the bus the elderly people screamed in horror, barely believing the soldiers they had shot years ago were there again. A man waved a rosary towards Herzog, before Dietrich pulled his trachea off. The Standartenführer just laughed, truely satisfied, and walked to the end of the bus, watching the massacre, his impressive figure looming above the bloody confusion.

He had avenged his men. He felt peaceful like he had never felt before, and light, and he sighed happily when a still beating heart was thrown against a window.

Now he only had to tormet the peasants until the end of times, just to be sure they would never mess up with his troops again.

After his men killed the elderly people, they left the bus and crossed the road to the other side. Herzog removed a handgrenade from a pocket:

"Party's over." He said and threw the grenade towards the bus. It landed near the bus and rolled under it, where it exploded, provoking the bus to fire up and explode too. Sascha laughed and clapped his hands:

"Fireworks!"

* * *

Little later after Agnes arrived to the museum, the director of the museum, the mayor and two generals, one from the Norwegian army and the other from the Bundeswehr (German army) joined her. Agnes' colleague, a young man who was still studying, would join them by the end of the morning. The ground floor was decorated with Nazi and Norwegian flags, and there was a semi-circle of chairs near the window, and in front of the semi-circle there was a line of 20 chairs, and a microphone resting on one of them. The German officer handed Agnes a small box containing framed pictures, and the director told her to expose the pictures upstairs.

The young woman trotted upstairs and decided that the pictures would look good in the showcase that used to have Herzog's map and was now empty, since the map was with its owner. Agnes opened the showcase with a sigh:

"They couldn't have given me these pictures yesterday, no! It had to be today! Now I'll have to make captions in a hurry!" She grumbled under her breath as she placed the glass on the floor and opened the box.

10 pictures, all courtesy of the Bundesarchiv, with the respective caption written in the back. Agnes rolled her eyes and concluded she would have to bring her laptop upstairs. She picked up one picture, curiously... and then frowned.

It was a black and white portrait, and the man in the picture was Herzog. A much younger version of Herzog, with an ageless face, perfectly combed hair and eyebrows, no scars, no gash and no dark rings around his eyes... but that strong jaw, and the serious expression, and the intense stare... Agnes would recognize him anywhere. He had a WW1 German uniform and she read the caption on the back; _Hein Herzog, 5. Oktober, 1916._ So, that was how he looked like when he had joined the army for the first time.

Agnes picked up another picture and smiled; a group picture, and this time Herzog didn't have hair or eyebrows anymore. In the back she read _9\. April, 1917, _and the name of the soldiers. There were other 3 pictures of Herzog, all of them from the Great War. There was one picture of Herzog during the Officer Course and another of him with a German uniform that wasn't SS or Wehrmacht.

Finally, a picture of Herzog with the SS uniform, and standing next to him there was Himmler. Another portrait of him, in the SS-Standartenführer uniform, and the last was a group picture.

Agnes found herself smiling like a fool because that was probably the least militarized picture in the world; there was Herzog, and he was laughing! Laughing and looking at his right, and there was Sascha making one of his silly faces. And Fritz crossing his eyes. And Dietrich, smiling innocently, unnaware of Konrad's fingers peeking over his head, and Konrad looking sideways at Dietrich and trying to be serious, and all the other soldiers of the Einsatzgruppe making goofy faces. They were posing in front of a ruined village. Agnes turned the picture and read _Polen, 2. März, 1940_. She couldn't tell if that picture had been sent to show the Norwegian people of Øksfjord that the Nazis were human beings too, or if to show them they had shot down a bunch of retards.

The young woman looked at the picture again, this time smiling sadly; it was the only picture in which Herzog was visibly happy. He had always had that serious face, and he looked completely different in that picture, just because he was laughing. Because he was with his Einsatzgruppe.

And Agnes had to admit; Herzog had been a very beautiful man. Still was, in spite of that gash on his face... and even though he was dead... and it all sounded really wrong, but blame Herzog for being so handsome.

The young woman looked around and decided to take pictures of the pictures with her cellphone and then show them to the guys.

After she disposed the pictures with the respective captions in the showcase, she went downstairs again to have lunch. The director, the mayor and the officers where nowhere to be seen. Agnes' colleague was already there, sitting in one of the chairs and eating a sandwich. Agnes stood behind the counter, eating noodles and mentally preparing to feel shocked when the news about the elderly people were known.

More people came after lunch, relatives of the elderly people and curious visitants in general, and the director of the museum and his guests showed up again. And then they all waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And at a half past 5 pm the police came to give them some horrible news.

* * *

Agnes slammed the door of the jeep and leaned against it; pretending to feel sympathy for others was hard! She looked around, to the forest surrounding her house, and noticed a dark figure, darker than the shadows, looking at her with shiny blue eyes. Agnes smiled:

"Happy birthday!" She exclaimed. Herzog walked towards her with open arms and they embraced:

"It was a blast." He told and started to laugh. Agnes frowned:

"I don't like Sascha's influence on you." She said against his chest. She looked up at him and concluded he hadn't really changed that much since he had died. "And now there will be 3 days of national mourning, which means I'm only going back to work next week. I love this job so much; I'm ridiculously well-paid and sometimes I barely have to work! All those policemen around me are quite annoying, though..."

"My men were so happy..." Herzog had a huge, happy smile. "Fritz was an excellent sniper, he made me so proud!"

"I have a feeling Sascha is way prouder than you."

"You might have a point." The Standartenführer stroked her cheek. "You look tired, lets get inside."

"I have something to show you at dinner." Agnes said as she opened the door and they got in. Herzog looked curiously at her and nodded.

Sometime later they were both sitting at the table, Agnes with a bowl full of salad and the Standartenführer looking at the pictures in her cellphone. He was silent, examining the pictures like they were famous paintings, and he burst into laughter when he saw the group picture:

"It was supposed to be a serious picture, you know?" He told, smiling longingly. "For the Völkischer Beobachter*... The journalists eventually managed to take a decent picture of us, but I had no idea this one had survived." Herzog chuckled and hid his face on his hands. "I wonder if the Führer saw this, I hope he didn't!" He looked at the picture again, the same melancholic smile on what was left of his lips. "Look at this, Dietrich still had two eyes like a normal person!"

"Now he looks cooler, with an eye and a stick." The young woman replied. Herzog handed her the cellphone and shrugged:

"Well, now you know how I looked like."

"You didn't change much over the years." Agnes assured. The dead man just sighed. "Lets go to the mountains tomorrow, and show this to the guys!"

"Sascha will be most pleased in knowing what I looked like with hair and eyebrows." Herzog smiled, this time a joyful smile; he was feeling good, and not even old pictures would ruin his good-mood this time. He was feeling so good all he wanted was to hug Agnes and never let her go again.

In the next morning they made their way up the snowy mountains, Herzog wearing again the 'cool civilian clothes' that had belonged to Agnes' brother. When they reached the cave Herzog gathered his Einsatzgruppe around Agnes, so that they could see the pictures. Everybody laughed when they saw the glorious picture of Herzog with hair and eyebrows, and there were a few chuckles as they saw the rest of Herzog's pictures. But everyone went silent before the group picture, so silent the other soldiers tried to take a look to understand what had ceased all the laughing. Looking around, to the SS zombies surrounding her, Agnes could only see a few sad smiles; the majority wasn't even smiling:

"Look, Dietrich had two eyes!" Sascha exclaimed, breaking the solemnity of the moment:

"We should take a new picture with Dietrich's sticky friend!" Fritz suggested:

"Picture! Picture! Picture!" A growling choir exclaimed happily. Agnes looked at Herzog with wide eyes. The Standartenführer just shrugged, smiling. Agnes sighed and gave a few steps away from the Einsatzgruppe:

"Fine, picture..."

"With everybody, you included." Herzog said. The other Nazi soldiers hurried to join the Einsatzgruppe, because picture-time is always fun. Rottenführer Bergen smoothed his uniform the best he could, making Michael roll his only eye. Agnes sighed and joined them again, and handed Herzog the cellphone:

"Does he know how to work with that? I want to learn too!" Sascha exclaimed:

"In your dreams. Guys, try to be as close as possible. Without smashing me!" The young woman instructed. Herzog raised the cellphone:

"Say «Sieg Heil»!" He said, and his soldiers (and archaeologist) did.

And that was how Agnes got a selfie with Nazi zombies.

* * *

On the way back home Herzog was quite talkative and Agnes wondered if his sudden animation had to do with his soldiers' happiness for taking the picture, or with the glorious massacre of the day before, or because of her company, or all of them. She supposed it was probably all of them, she had never seen him talk this much for so long.

And when they sat on the mattress and Agnes reached out for her laptop to send the picture from her cellphone to her pictures folder and he reached out for his magazine... he was still talking. And was talking while reading, and Agnes doubted he could do both, but it's Herzog we're talking about, so maybe he could... The young woman finally placed a finger over what was left of his lips. Cold, frostbitten, harsh lips, she had never touched them before. He shut up immediately and looked at her by the corner of his eye:

"What the hell did Sascha do to you?" She asked, laughing. "You sound like me, talking nonstop!" But Herzog just narrowed his eyes and bit her finger playfully, holding it between his teeth. Agnes laughed, closed her laptop and shoved it aside. "Hein, come on! You're not doing this!" To prove her otherwise, Herzog bit her a little harder. The young woman laughed again; his teeth were feezing, but the inside of his mouth was even more.

Then the bell rang. The playful expression vanished from Herzog's face and he let go her finger. Agnes bit her lower lip and stood up:

"Hein Herzog, if you pout again..." She threatened and left the room. She took a quick glance at her finger before opening the door, and saw the marks of his teeth. With a silly smile, she opened the door.

There were two police agents. One of them was Erik, who smiled enthusiastically:

"Miss Hummel, how are you?"

"Very well, thank you." She forced a smile:

"I'm very sorry about yesterday, was there anyone you knew among the victims?"

"No, fortunately. Those poor people..." Agnes forced a sigh. "Do you need anything?"

"No, we're just leaving this contact." Erik's colleague said, and handed Agnes a blue paper with big black numbers printed on it. "We called the riot police. Seems that yesterday, by the end of the day, someone saw something in the forest."

Agnes frowned and crossed her arms:

"Something in the forest?" She repeated. There, Herzog was in troubles! The policemen nodded:

"The person said it moved fast, and by the fuss it should be a large number of individuals. But whatever it or they were, were too deep in the forest."

"What can it be?" The young woman asked, truely concerned. Erik shrugged:

"We have no idea. We are considering everything, from a large animal to the group of terrorists that was responsible from stealing all those weapons from the museum and that was probably responsible for yesterday's massacre."

"It's probably a neonazi gang, considering the stolen weapons are German..." Erik's colleague grumbled. Agnes just bit her lower lip, uneasy. "We are telling this to everyone in the area. Do you live alone?"

"Yes!" Agnes nodded quickly. Erik frowned:

"Living alone like this, in the middle of the forest and this close to the mountains, is very dangerous in this kind of situation."

"I suggest you to bring over a friend, and to keep your windows shut and your door locked, and to be very careful. If you see anything, please contact us. And if you find yourself in troubles, and I really hope you won't, contact that number." The other policeman said. Agnes just nodded.

* * *

*The newspaper of the Nazi Party.

**Weeeeeee, review?**


	26. Chapter 26

**Auhtor's note: **thanks so much for the review. : 3

* * *

Agnes trotted back to the bedroom and sat on the mattress across Herzog. The Standartenführer frowned:

"Was ist los, mein Schatz?" He asked and held her small and delicate hands between his. Agnes bit her lower lip:

"Some people told the police they saw something in the woods, yesterday." She said nervously. "For what the police told me, it was you and your guys!"

"My men and me are not «something», Agnes. Let them think there's a bear around here."

"They called the riot police!" The young woman widened her eyes, brown in the light dimness of the bedroom. "It's dangerous for you to be here, and for the guys to be alone up there!"

"Are you worried about the riot police or about me?" Herzog chuckled and caressed her cheek. But Agnes held his hand, annoyedly, and the Standartenführer sighed and rolled his blue eyes. "They didn't see _us_, right? So, everything is fine." But the young woman just cast him an uneasy look. With another sigh, Herzog pulled her close and fell backwards over the pillows, dragging Agnes along. He then started to poke her neck where he knew she didn't like. "How hypocrite of you, telling me not to pout and pouting!"

"What if they find you?" The young woman wriggled and eventually managed to pull away from Herzog's cold hands. Or better, he let her go. "What if you get killed... again?"

"If they find me, my men and me will be the last thing they see." Herzog assured and tried to pull Agnes again. Yet seemed it was her turn to be the wrecker of special moments, and she backed away a little:

"I'm serious, Hein! I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you, or to Sascha, or to Fritz, or to Dietrich, or to anyone else! Maybe... maybe you should hide for a while-" In the blink of an eye, Herzog was right there, just mere millimeters away, his big and cold hand covering Agnes' mouth. He didn't look relaxed anymore:

"And I am serious, too. Do I look like someone who enjoys hide-and-seek games, Agnes? Do I?" He tilted his head to one side and the tip of his nose brushed hers. "Do you think a bunch of idiotic peasents scare me and will keep me away from you?" What was left of his lips curved in a dangerous grin. "I will kill them all, and it will be a pleasure." The grin left his face and he held Agnes' face between his thumb and index finger, gently yet authoritatively. "Or do you want me to leave? Do you want to be by yourself again?"

The young woman hurried to shake her head. Herzog just nodded; poor Agnes, so easily scared by a mere policeman! But lucky woman, Herzog was there to remind her the police was nothing.

* * *

When Agnes left to the museum, Herzog decided to take a look on that famous riot police. Taking advantage of the early hours of the morning and the lack of light in the forest, he moved silently among the trees, with large and confident strides and his hands behind his back. After walking for a while, he spotted a big armoured van among the trees and, raising a hairless eyebrow, he decided to go closer.

There were men coming out of the van, men with strange armourings and camouflage uniforms. One of them had a map and all of them had rifles hanging on their shoulders. Herzog frowned, studying them through the protection of the dark branches of the trees. He had no idea of what they were saying, but it didn't take long until they split. The Standartenführer decided to follow a pair of policemen who had the bad luck of having to go towards him. Stepping into the shadows, Herzog watched as the two men bypassed him without noticing the his massive and dark figure, and when they were far enough the blue-eyed zombie went after them, calmly.

So, that was the riot police. A group of men with ridiculous excuses of armour. Herzog had seen, in a museum in Berlin, Maximilian armours* better than that! And was that how they acted, taking a walk on the forest, talking to each other, like it was Sunday and they were in a park? Herzog supressed the urge to laugh; poor Agnes, scared and worried for no reason! Even Dietrich could do better than that! With an amused smirk playing on his lips, the Standartenführer did a few neck rotation stretches and kicked a small rock towards a nearby bush.

The two men ahead of him stopped and turned around, rifles ready to fire, but they couldn't see Herzog blended into the shadows. This time, Herzog decided to shake a few lower branches and one of the men started to walk towards him. Just perfect! He stopped and stepped aside, hiding behind a tree, and waited.

And waited.

And then he saw the barrel of the rifle, then the pair of hands holding it, and finally the policeman, walking parallel to Herzog. And when the man had his back turned against the Standartenführer, all Herzog had to do was to grab a rock, take a silent step forwards and hit the man on the back of his head. Because, unlike his men who knew that helmets were to be used on the heads, this policeman probably thought his helmet looked better hanging on his belt.

Now Herzog knew he had to be quick and, seizing a rock as big as his head, he let it fall over the policeman's head. The rock landed with a squishy sound that made the Standartenführer wrinkle his nose. Then, careful not to get blood and brains on his gloves, he pushed the rock away and admired the beautifully gory mess he had done:

"Aufstehen!" (Stand up!) He ordered, pressing his hand over the man's heart. And the corpse did, and looked at him with that disguisting bloody pancake that was his head. Herzog tilted his head in the direction of where the other policeman was waiting. "Attack." He ordered again.

By the end of the day the forest was infested with «volunteers» of the Norwegian riot police. Herzog told them to attack the houses at the other side of the forest, so that Agnes would be safe. And now the Standartenführer was making his way up the mountain, slowly and happily.

* * *

Agnes came out the jeep and yawned, tired. What a busy day! All she wanted to do now was to lay down and have a good night of sleep and...

She heard a growl. And it wasn't Herzog, nor any of the other Nazi zombies. Her heart sped up and she hurried to switch on the small flashlight she had in one of the pockets of her cargos.

And her blood froze and she felt the little colour she had being drained from her face; a riot policeman was looking at her with a knife sticking out of his chest. Herzog's «volunteer» tilted his head to one side and took a slow step forwards. And more two dead policemen followed him.

Agnes took in a few shallow breaths, terrified, her eyes moving madly from one «volunteer» to another; she knew she had little chances if she locked herself in her house, or in the jeep, and she also knew there was no way she could fight them. Carefully, she took a step back and, with her free hand, removed her pocketknife from a pocket; her only chance to survive those «volunteers» was to find Herzog. Herzog, whose lair was a cave in the very top of a snowy mountain. What could possibly go wrong if she decided to run across the forest, at night, and climb the mountain, with those things after her...?

With a yelp, the young woman turned around and started to run. And the «volunteers» followed her.

The fear and the adrenaline helped Agnes to outrun them, and she even managed to dodge every dead policeman that jumped into her way as she was running through the woods. Blind to the pain of the scratches on her face due to the lower tree branches and the agonizing pain that was starting to spread from her bad knee to her leg, the young woman finally reached the base of the mountain and kept running, with the dead policemen right after her. But it started to snow, and the freezing air of the mountains seemed to burn her lungs, and the snow became deeper and deeper as she climbed.

In a panick, Agnes did her best not to slow down. Her knuckles were livid, such was the strenght on her grip around the flashlight and her knife.

However, her knee couldn't take it anymore and it stopped obeying her, and Agnes fell on the snow. With wide eyes and breathing too shallow and too fast, feeling her heart race madly and painfully in her chest, Agnes turned around and tried to keep Herzog's «volunteers» at bay with her knife.

But they circled her, and she instinctively curled into a ball and waited for what would happen next:

"Leave her alone, uglies!" A voice exclaimed behind her. And, after a little hesitation, the dead policemen backed away. Agnes uncurled and glanced behind to see Dietrich standing behind her, frowning. "Shoo! Shoo!"

Slowly, the «volunteers» started to make their way down the mountain. Agnes just laid on the snow, eyes wide, unable to steady her breathing. The cuts on her face were bleeding and tears ran down her eyes, from the cold and the pain and the panick. Dietrich kneeled next to her, smiling, but his smile didn't last long. He called for Konrad, worriedly, and it didn't take long until the other zombie emerged from the snow and studied Agnes:

"Shit..." He concluded. "Dietrich, tell Sascha to get Herzog down here." He said as he pressed his fingers on Agnes' neck; her blood was running madly. "Come on Acney, try to breath properly!"

Only god knows how she was trying really hard to do that. But she was still in panick, and strained, and breathing was horribly painful, but not breathing was even more. Dietrich ran up the mountain, and little later he came back with Herzog, Sascha, Fritz and the Doctor. Herzog carried a grim expression. Konrad looked worriedly at his Standartenführer:

"She's ran all the way up here with some dead dudes after her, Herr Standartenführer!" He exclaimed. Herzog just looked at Agnes, his jaw clenched and fists closed behind his back:

"Let me see that." The Doctor grumbled and kneeled next to Agnes, whose eyes moved madly to look at the faces around her. He felt her pulse and looked at the worrying speed of her chest rising and falling. "She's suffocating... her pulse is too fast... Why did she decide to play Pheidippides*?" The Doctor said with a chuckle. "There are better ways to die!"

"Is she really dying?" Sascha asked and widened his eyes, and his face became livid. The Doctor nodded, smiling happily:

"I will give her... 20 minutes; she will run out of oxygen and her heart won't be able to keep working at this rhythm." He said, and that was when Herzog grabbed him by the back of his collar and literally threw him away:

"She is not dying!" He groaned angrily and seized Agnes by an arm, making her stand up. She widened her eyes even more and her breath was caught in her throat, and she would have fallen if it wasn't for Herzog's iron grip. "Go back to the cave, I take care of her."

The soldiers and the Doctor watched in silence as Herzog and Agnes made their way down the mountain, slowly. Agnes couldn't use her injured knee and had to support her weight on Herzog.

It took them a long while until they finally reached the forest soil. By that time Agnes was breathing better; walking had regularized her heartbeat and breathing and Herzog's presence had dismissed the panick. And even though she could hear the «volunteers» among the trees, she knew she was safe now. And really, the young woman couldn't blame the dead policemen for hiding; there was such a wrathful aura around Herzog that Agnes wouldn't be surprised if the trees around them suddenly exploded into a flaming mess.

When they stopped at her door she managed to give him the keys and they got in. Herzog locked the door and then helped Agnes to go to the bedroom:

"How are you feeling?" The Standartenführer growled lowly, helping her to sit on the inflatable mattress. Agnes sighed and offered him a weak smile in the dark:

"Sore... but I'll manage." She said. She felt his fingers pressing on her neck:

"And your knee?"

This time all Agnes did was to bite her lower lip. She felt him move away and had to close her eyes when he switched on the light. Herzog undressed his trench coat and uniform jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt:

"Boots off." He told her, and Agnes hurried to unlace and pull off her boots. Herzog then rolled up the cargo's leg and frowned when he was able to see her knee; swollen and reddened. And it was all his fault! He snarled angrily and stood up. "Shower, now. And don't you even think in using that leg."

The young woman just nodded, suddenly afraid of all those bad vibes coming from him. Furious was not enough to describe him, and she had no idea why he was acting like that. He should be worried about her, but furious...? Agnes had the pair of crutches behind the door and Herzog handed them to her.

When she was done with the shower she went to the kitchen, only to be seized by the waist and carried to the bedroom by a still very rageful Herzog. A very rageful Herzog in a training suit, still terrifying. Then he brought her a dish full of salad and a steak, and a bottle full of water. Agnes made a face when she tried the water:

"Why did you put salt in the water?" She asked him:

"Correct hydration." Herzog replied and made his way out of the bedroom. Agnes just looked at the doorway, still frowning, until finally she remembered how exhausted and hungry she was feeling and started to eat. And in spite of the salt, she drank the whole bottle. The Standartenführer came back some time later and took the empty dish and bottle back to the kitchen.

Finally, he switched off the light and sat at the edge of the mattress. Agnes smiled tiredly; he looked exhausted too:

"Hein?" She called. He sighed and looked at her. "I'm fine. I just feel tired..." And every little muscle in her body ached, and her knee was killing her, and her lungs seemed to be on fire, and her heart was still hammering painfully, and there was the metallic taste of blood in her throat and a mighty headache was coming.

But the Standartenführer just shook his head. The young woman laid down on her side, facing him:

"Care to explain?" She asked. Herzog just sighed again and moved closer to her, and placed a freezing hand over Agnes' injured knee:

"You need to rest. You are not going to work tomorrow, are we understood?"

"Care to explain tomorrow?" The young woman insisted, and made herself comfortable as Herzog covered her with a fluffy blanket. He laid down next to her, his dead cold hand still over her knee:

"Sleep." He grumbled. Agnes sighed, but she knew it was useless to insist with him. So she snuggled on him and closed her eyes, and within few minutes she was sleeping.

Herzog stared into the wall opposite to the bed and, slowly, felt all the wrath cooling down inside him. In the end he felt exhausted, yet refused to close his eyes. Instead he looked away from the wall to Agnes. She could have died. Because of his arrogance by showing off how good and powerful he was. She could have died a horrible, slow and painful death.

All because of him.

* * *

When Agnes woke up she had a glorious headache, but her heart, lungs and throat were normal again. She was still sore, and for some reason she didn't feel her injured knee. She moved her head to look at Herzog's face.

Her hazel eyes met his blue's, and she knew he had been lost in depressing thoughts again:

"How do you feel?" He asked. Agnes smiled and snuggled on his large chest:

"Much better, thank you. And you?"

"I'll get you breakfast. You should call your boss and tell him you're staying at home."

"Hein Herzog, will you please not ignore me and tell me why the fuck I was chased by a bunch of dead policemen?" The young woman demanded angrily, jabbing his chest with her index finger. The Standartenführer frowned, annoyed, until he sighed and changed to a sitting position. He pulled the blanket away and removed his hand from Agnes' knee.

Good, it wasn't swollen or reddened anymore. The young woman rose an eyebrow; so, that explained the numbness. With all the care in the world, Herzog started to make her move her knee:

"You were so worried about the riot police that I decided to finish them. I just killed one of them and they eventually finished each other... I might have helped a little." He snarled angrily, yet somehow he didn't hurt Agnes. "I told them to go to the other side of the forest!"

"Hein, you need to stop killing people like that! The old folks drew attention from all over the country, you can't risk yourself and your guys like that!" Agnes exclaimed in pure disbelief. She already knew he was a menace to the public, but _this_ menacing?

However... there he was, with her. And she knew he was completely mad at his own behaviour. With a sigh, the young archaeologist decided not to bother him anymore; his internal struggles would do that for her:

"Well, at least I'm alive! Now tell me, for how long will you keep me in my own house?" She asked curiously, and the perspective of spending a little bit more time with him cheered her up. He let go of her leg and massaged his temples:

"Today and tomorrow. You are not moving from this bed, are we understood?"

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer."

When he left to get her breakfast, Agnes reached for her laptop, besides the mattress, and switched it on to check the news. And just like she expected, the headlines were all about the dead riot policemen. Herzog came back some time later and sat next to her, and looked curiously at the screen of her laptop:

"What do they sat?" He asked:

"«This morning a unit of the Norwegian riot police, stationed near Talvik, shot down a fellow unit who attacked them, and killed one of their officers. The authorities are now investigating the case, but the most reasonable explanation is terrorism and sabotage.»" Agnes translated. Herzog couldn't help but chuckle:

"Well, I'm glad we all had a happy ending."

* * *

*Pheidippides is said to have run from Marathon to Athens to deliver news of a military victory against the Persians in the Battle of Marathon... and he died of exhaustion.

**Weeeee, review?**


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's note: **thanks so much for the reviews, and the favs, and the follows! :'D

* * *

In spite of Herzog's attempts, Agnes eventually managed to stand up after lunch and walk a little in the bedroom without the crutches; she was limping a little, but her knee didn't hurt anymore:

"See, it's not that bad!" The young woman said as she sat again on the mattress, next to Herzog. "But you have to stop leaving a trail of dead bodies behind!"

"You are right." The Standartenführer grumbled and crossed his arms. Agnes rose an eyebrow. "I need to plan my big and glorious offensive."

"Hein..." Agnes facepalmed, and then looked at him. He was smiling, and she was sure he intended to smile innocently, but there was no innocence in that smile. "Hein, big offensive? Wasn't the elderly people the big offensive?"

"No, mein Schatz! That was just killing the assassins of my men! The big offensive, or maybe offensives... don't look at me like that! Do you remember that little list you helped me to write?"

"Are you really serious about that?" Agnes grew paler. "Are you planning to leave your «volunteers» in the supermarket?"

"No, I won't leave my «volunteers» wandering alone again." Herzog's smile died. "It's not safe for you. But I do intend to find more «volunteers» to help my men in the big offensive... offensives."

Agnes imagined a bunch of zombified Norwegian people destroying the supermarket, the gas station, the power plant and the roads under the command of the Nazi zombies. It was funny in a way, or maybe she was just morbid, but on the other hand it was really scary; she didn't want to find again Herzog's «volunteers», and the perspective that handfulls of them could show up while she was shopping, or filling the deposit of her jeep, or driving back home or to work was everything but bright.

Herzog seemed to read her mind and pulled her to a comforting embrace:

"Don't worry, I have everything under control. This time nothing will happen to you." He assured. Because he would be there to keep an eye on those stupid «volunteers»:

"You could have killed me." Agnes said, her words muffled against his chest:

"I could, but I didn't. I need you alive, and we have a deal."

"I hate that deal. I hate myself for proposing that deal..."

"Even if we didn't have a deal, I would still need you alive."

Agnes looked up and him, annoyed. The Standartenführer offered her a sad smile:

"Oh, but you are stubborn, aren't you?" The young woman sighed:

"I am still here, so apparently I am stubborn." And he chuckled.

Agnes rolled her eyes and made herself comfortable, leaning against Herzog's big and cold body. The cold didn't bother her anymore. With a finger, she started to trace one of the scars on Herzog's arm, thinking; if he was planning something like that, so maybe it would be the perfect time for Agnes to go on vacation abroad. Yes, that sounded safe enough. But maybe that would upset him, and even though Herzog was a little megalomaniac when it came to attacking, he wasn't stupid; Agnes knew him well enough to say he would surely be fast and efficient, so maybe one night would be enough for him to launch one of his big offensives. Maybe that night the young woman should camp in the cave... ironically, that would be the safest place in Øksfjord!

The bell rang and Herzog growled lowly, and Agnes couldn't help but remember the German Shepherds that had lived with her in the barracks:

"I bet it's the police. Again." The young woman said as she stood up. Herzog crossed his arms:

"Whoever it is, will be a «volunteer» any time soon..." He grumbled. Agnes chuckled, even though she knew he was serious.

She opened the door; it was Erik. The young policeman frowned:

"What happened to your face?" He asked. Agnes rose her eyebrows:

"Good evening, Mr. policeman." She replied dryly and Erik blushed. "I fell last night. Got my knee injured again."

"How did you fell, Miss Hummel?" He sounded concerned:

"I came out of my jeep and my knee buckled... and there were some branches on the ground, which is quite surprising, with all these trees around my house..." Erik sighed, relieved, and Agnes crossed her arms. "And before you ask... yes, I've read the news. Who did you call this time, the army? The Pope? The Avengers?"

"You are a funny woman, Miss Hummel." The polieman laughed, completely unaware of Agnes' irony. "Can I call you Agnes?"

"I guess you do..."

"We are evacuating the area." Erik explained, trying to contain his happiness. "It's temporary, but after what happened this morning the mayor doesn't want anymore victims and-"

"I'm not moving, unless you bring me a magical paper signed by the court telling me to move. The reason is that the danger is outside this forest; none of the victims was my neighbour..." Agnes said calmly, looking at her perfect nails painted in purple with black stripes; Herzog was becoming very good at that. Erik was a little taken aback, and when he spoke again he was utterly disappointed:

"You... you are staying? But... but your neighbours... they aren't even neighbours, you take almost one hour to find the next house! But anyway, they are leaving!"

"Good, I've always thought pretty romantic a house in the middle of the forest, with no one around!" Agnes smiled. "Don't worry, Erik..." And the young policeman's face lit up with a smile. "I'm a lucky woman, remember? I'll be fine."

"I'll make sure of that." Erik promissed. Agnes just nodded and closed the door. With a silly smile stamped on his face, Erik made his way to the police car, got in and drove away, completely unaware of the pair of cold blue eyes that had been watching him, behind the curtains of the kitchen window.

Herzog clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes; so, that was the little bastard who _dared_ to talk to his Agnes! Being a leader since a very young age, Herzog was obviously good at memorizing faces and names and places... and that was a face he wasn't going to forget, and he would be more than happy to destroy that pretty face completely. Maybe he should soak it in fuel and set it on fire...? Or maybe he should peel the policeman's face...?, the SS dagger was a little thirsty for blood... Or should he pick the policeman's eyes out...? Or maybe he should just smash that face to an ugly pulp with his fists...? Or- :

"Hein? Were you spying on me?" Agnes asked behind him with a hint of amusement. Herzog nearly jumped out of his skin and turned around to face her in an ungraceful scared jump. He looked at her with big, wide blue eyes:

"I just wanted to know who is this constant importunate!" He excused. He made his way towards Agnes and wrapped his arms around her waist, possessively. "And since when is he authorized to call you by the name, and why did you call him by the name too?"

"Because having that guy on my good side means less troubles for me." Agnes said, a huge smile spreading on her face. "Are you jealous?" She knew he was, sometimes he was just ridiculously obvious, and Agnes had to admit she loved that, having someone caring so much for her. It felt good, after all those years alone in the orphanage:

"I just take good care of what belongs to me." Herzog grumbled as an answer. The young woman just looked at him, smiling, running her hands up and down his arms, and rested her head on his chest. The blue-eyed zombie stirred her head, absently, grim thoughts swirling madly in his head and fear rising inside him; he didn't want to go through what he had been through with Erika.

* * *

"I hope Acn-Agnes is fine!" Sascha exclaimed, emerging from the snow right in front of Herzog. The Standartenführer nearly bumped into his Ordonnanz, and to avoid doing such he lost his ballance and fell flat on his buttocks. Sascha burst into laughter and fell on his knees, and eventually ended up rolling and laughing hysterically.

Herzog blushed and stood up, trying to regain his composure:

"Fräulein Agnes is fine and out of danger." He said. Sascha was still laughing, much for Herzog's dismay. "Stop that, Sascha... and don't you ever do that again."

"That was the best thing I've ever seen in my life!" The young soldier giggled, drying imaginary tears to the back of his hand. "After seeing Fritz naked, of course..."

"I won't even..." And the rest of the phrase was lost in a growl. Herzog proceeded his way up the mountain, and Sascha trotted after him. They walked in silence for a while, the blonde-haired zombie was still giggling, and the Standartenführer hoped Sascha would stop, otherwise he would feel forced to laugh of his embarassing fall too:

"Good to know she's fine." Sascha commented when he finally calmed down. "Don't you ever leave her alone with your «volunteers» again, are we understood?"

"I learn fast Sascha, don't worry..."

"Sometimes seems you don't. We all have been worried, Fritz and I even considered in going down there and show up at the door to ask if everything was fine, but then I thought: «Wait a minute, we killed those old folks not so long ago, and now Herzog spent an entire day gathering «volunteers»... we better stay here...»."

"You thought well."

"I know I did, I learned with you!" Sascha puffed his chest, proudly, and looked at Herzog. Then he frowned. "What are you planning?"

"A big offensive. Or offensives, I'm not sure yet..."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Poor, innocent Herzog! After all these years you still think you can hide stuff from me!" Sascha laughed again. Herzog frowned, bothered, and stopped. Sascha stopped besides him, an amused smirk playing on his lips:

"I might have concurrence." Herzog explained briefly. Sascha burst into laughter again. The Standartenführer let ou a long, suffering sigh, and crossed his arms, waiting patiently for Sascha to stop laughing. When he did, the Ordonnanz was lying on the snow, his cheeks puffed and dark blue and both his hands covering his mouth in an attempt to control himself. Herzog shook his head. "I need to think in a particularly painful death for that swine."

An image of Herzog dressed in armour and armed with a Zweihänder (German two handed sword) chasing a Norwegian peasant crossed Sascha's mind. And he burst into laughter again, louder and waving his limbs like he was possessed. Herzog blushed:

"And I still waste my time trying to talk to you! You are dismissed, go to your post!"

"I can't breath, I'll die!" Sascha cried, laughing and rolling. Herzog began to walk again. Somehow, Sascha managed to stand up and went after Herzog, walking like a drunk man and laughing hysterically. "Wait! I'm serious Herzog, wait!"

Herzog stopped again and glanced behind. His offended look didn't help much and Sascha fell to his knees:

"I can't do this right now, maybe later..." He concluded. And the Standartenführer left him laughing alone.

At night, when everybody was in the cave, Sascha made his way to Herzog's little chamber. The Standartenführer was sitting on the field bed, looking down at his boots. The officer cap was besides him.

The blonde-haired zombie kneeled in front of Herzog, who cast him an annoyed look:

"Are you calmer now?" He asked. Sascha nodded. "Gut."

"You're acting all tough like «I'm just going to kill the bastard.» but you're scared, aren't you?" Sascha tilted his head to one side:

"It's not that I don't trust Agnes..." Herzog grumbled and wrapped his arms around his torso:

"Ha, you missed the «Fräulein»!" Sascha rose a blonde eyebrow. "What happened to the «Fräulein»?"

"You are impossible today, aren't you?" And the young soldier chuckled, amused:

"It's just funny to see you like this. You know Herzog, you should trust Agnes..."

"And I trust her!" The Standartenführer exclaimed indignantly and frowned. "But... it's just... the peasant is a policeman and-"

"Come on, you're an SS-Standartenführer!"

"-and he's young and-"

"And you can't look older than that and you look younger and prettier than most 47 years-old officers I've seen!"

"Goddamit Sascha, stop interrupting me!" Herzog paused, just to make sure there would be no more interruptions. "He used her name! And she used his name! And-"

"And you love Agnes with all your being, but still you don't trust her fully. That's bad." Sascha narrowed his eyes and Herzog groaned sadly before the new interruption. "Herzog, you are a strange creature..."

"The bastard is alive, Sascha! Do you know what that means?"

"That you can kill him...?"

"That he can take Agnes to places!"

"Is that the big problem?" Sascha frowned, confused. "You're worried that he can take her to the park? You can take her to the park too, I've seen you dressing her brother's clothes, and Agnes told me you drove her jeep once!"

"He has a human face!"

"You have a human face too!" Sascha shook his head. "I get it, I get it! Herzog, you can't be like that! I've told you before, Agnes likes you just how you like her. Instead of imagining problems, you should move that muscular ass of yours and get her."

"Watch your tongue, young man..." Herzog grumbled and looked down, because Sascha was right. Again. He hated when Sascha scolded him like that:

"This is me giving a flying fuck about my tongue! Look at me, Herzog." With an annoyed sigh, Herzog looked at his Ordonnanz. "You're making a storm in a teacup... but you better do something, and killing the peasant isn't the solution."

"I'm not making a storm!" Herzog widened his eyes and grabbed Sascha's shoulders. The younger soldier flinched:

"I really hope you're not this brute with Agnes!"

"They used each other's _names_! She assured me it was just to keep that idiotic excuse of an agent of authority on her good side... but what if-"

"Fuck it Herzog, you have to trust her! And stop smashing my shoulders!" The pressure on the blonde-haired zombie's shoulders eased, and he took the chance to jab his index finger on Herzog's chest. "Killing him is not the solution."

"Will you please, pretty please care to tell what the solution is?" Herzog asked exasperatingly; of course killing the concurrence was the only logical solution, how could Sascha say otherwise?

The younger zombie pinched the bridge of his nose, way more exasperated than his Standartenführer:

"It's so easy even Dietrich could make it!" He exclaimed. "All you have to do is to show Agnes that, no matter what the peasant do or say, you can do better!" Herzog just looked at him and Sascha sighed tiredly. "Fine, step by step. You should be taking notes! First: you embrace her! Second: using all that chivalrous and erudite and cultured and poetic vocabulary of yours, you compare her to a Walküre (Valkyrie), say something nice about her eyes, hair, that metal jewellery of hers, whatever... Third: you tell her how madly in love you are with her, and don't look at me like that, because you do are in love, and you do are mad! Fourth: you kiss. Fifth: You... hm... you marry her first." Sascha chuckled.

Herzog grumbled something under his breath and crossed his arms, blushing:

"And do you think I didn't think about that?" He snarled. Sascha nodded. "But I did! And I concluded I just can't do that. At least for now."

"And why, helpless big man?"

"Because it all has to be perfect!" Herzog blushed even more. "I can't just... tell her I love her, stay with her for a while, and then come back up here and leave her alone! A couple is not supposed to live apart!"

"You bring her with you!"

"I need her alive and we have a deal and I gave her my word!"

"You stay there with her!"

"I promised I would torment the peasants until the end of times! How am I going to torment them if I'm not with my men to command them into battle?"

Sascha groaned and facepalmed. One of his blue eyes peeked at Herzog between his fingers and when he spoke, he sounded really angry:

"Yeah, you want to do things like that, don't you? Fine, do as you want! You'll lose Agnes, just like you lost Erika, and you know why, Herr Do-Everything-Nice-and-Neat? Because you're too blind and egoist to see your little knightly quests separate you from those who love you." Sascha stood up, raising his voice. "You're too selfish to sacrifice your own will to give her what she wants, and you're too greedy to just let her go!"

And Sascha left, leaving behind a wide eyed Standartenführer.

The blonde-haired soldier went to the bigger hollow of the cave; apparently, everyone was asleep. Sascha knew they weren't, that they had been trying to listen what he and Herzog had been talking about. With a sigh, Sascha sat on the ground, next to Fritz, and leaned his back against a stalagmite:

"You're pretty angry, aren't you?" The brown-eyed soldier asked in a whisper. He had his eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. Sascha rested his head on the younger soldier's shoulder:

"Did you hear?"

"Not much, but we all supposed it had to do with Agnes. You called Herzog selfish and greedy, again."

"You have no idea..." Sascha mumbled grimly. Fritz sighed:

"Will you pout and stop talking to him... again?"

"No, I promised I..." Sascha's words died in his mouth; he had promised, given his word. Just like Herzog had done with Agnes. Feeling suddenly guilty, Sascha jumped to his feet and trotted back to Herzog's little chamber.

Empty.

He found the Standartenführer at the entrance of the cave, looking absently to the dark and clear sky, dotted with starts. A perfect summer night, wasn't it for all the snow around them:

"Just... don't forget about her..." The younger zombie grumbled, stopping besides the Standartenführer. Herzog looked at him with an arched hairless eyebrow, surprised; he hadn't expected Sascha to talk to him for the next weeks:

"I never forget her..."

"You did, because of the old folks."

"I didn't forget; I had priorities. Still have."

"Agnes better be your priority."

"First you say I should trust her, and now-"

"I've already told you; cherish those who are dear to you."

"That's what I do!" Herzog exclaimed angrily. Sascha shrugged:

"So, if you think you're doing enough, I don't really understand why such a big drama."

"It's not a drama! Its's... look, nevermind! It's not your business, stop nosing around..."

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer..."

And they spent the night outside, looking at the sky in silence.

* * *

**Weeeeee, review?**


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's note: **thank you people for faving and following this story! :D And I'm sorry this took a little longer than the usual, but the semester is coming to an end (last week of lessons, yay! (but then I have finals, buhaaaaa... ;-; )) and I had to finish my papers and study for an exam this week...

And of course, do absolutely nothing while staring at my laptop. : 3

Anyway, don't mind me, go read! :D

* * *

It had been two weeks since the «volunteers' incident». Agnes was looking at her shopping list with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out what she had written and making a note to self to never again make a shopping list while she was hurrying up to go to work.

That strange-looking word had to be 'bread'. With a sigh, the young woman crossed the supermarket to get herself bread. It was almost dinnner time, so the supermarket was practically empty; that was good, Agnes didn't like closed crowded places, but above all she hated shopping. It was boring, stressing and other people had nothing to do with what she took.

Being dead and not having to go shopping and trying to read the shopping list and realising the prices changed again and then having to wait in a queue with revolutionary old women and crying children should be a bliss...

Sighing, Agnes grabbed a bag of bread and turned around to leave... and nearly colided with Erik. The young policeman was wearing civilian clothes and had a huge, radiant smile:

"Agnes! What a coincidence!" He exclaimed happily. Agnes forced a smile:

"Yeah... Erik... what a coincidence!"

"Do you want to go out for a coffee or something like that?" The young policeman asked, eagerly. Agnes widened her eyes, shocked, but somehow managed not to drop all the stuff she was carrying on her arms; did he really ask her out? Did a _human being_ ask her out? That was new! And unexpected. And strange, no one had ever asked her out. No one had seemed that eager to be in her company, only Herzog, and sadly he wasn't alive anymore.

The young woman shook her head, trying to recompose herself, and offered Erik a small smile:

"I'm sorry, but at the moment I can't..." She excused; Herzog was waiting for her, and she knew he would freak out if she took too long. Erik's smile died, and Agnes actually felt sorry for him. "Maybe some other day..."

"Ok!" He smiled again, widely. "So... see you?"

"Yeah... I guess!"

* * *

Driving back home, Agnes realised she couldn't stop thinking about Erik. He had been the one finding her the day the Soviet zombies had attacked her, and he had talked to her in the hospital, and had been with her in the ambulance when Herzog attacked the museum, and lately had been knocking at her door to know if everything was fine. That was strange, and unusual, and Agnes thought she should be creeped out... but she was actually enjoying his attention. After all those years being insulted and humiliated, having someone (someone alive) being nice to her... felt good.

She shook her head and left the asphalt road to get in a dirt road into the forest. It was already dark. Agnes knew that, for Erik's safety, he better stay away from her. She couldn't help but giggle, imagining if Herzog had gone shopping with her and Erik had dared to get close; the Standartenführer probably would have shoved him into the freezers, together with the boxes of ice creams, and watch him freeze to death.

Agnes stopped the jeep in front of her door and, in the dark, she could see a darker figure waiting for her at the door; Herzog. She sighed sadly; he would never go shopping with her... nor go out for a coffee. Agnes got out of the jeep and Herzog made his way towards her, and she smiled and pushed Erik to the back of her mind; it hadn't been Erik who had helped her when she had needed the most, and it wasn't Erik who she wanted.

She felt Herzog's arms around her and leaned against his chest:

"You took a while. Shopping?" He asked. Agnes nodded:

"I hate it..."

"Do you want to help my men destroying the supermarket?"

"Hm, that's tempting!" She laughed and looked up, to see his smiling face in the dark. He seemed to be in a good mood.

The next day, a Saturday, started with a beautiful morning. Looking outside through the kitchen window and holding a cup of chocolate milk, Agnes felt like going out for a walk in the forest, or in the moutain, somewhere quiet. She turned around to look at Herzog, who was meticulously ironing his shirt. She knew it was useless to talk to him while he was focused on that, he would simply not listen. So, when he was done with his shirt and before he started ironing his breeches, she spoke:

"What if we went for a walk?"

Herzog tensed and looked at her, annoyedly:

"Again? Last time-"

"We could walk around in the forest, or in the moutains!"

"I noticed regular patrolling in the forest by the local authorities, and in the moutains we take a very serious risk of finding Sascha." He explained, because he didn't want to tell Agnes how afraid he was of repeating the failure of the last time they went out. However, the sad look on her face made him think twice. Herzog left his breeches aside and made his way towards Agnes. "It's just..." He said as he embraced her from behind. "...I don't want to mess up like the last time."

"Fine..." The young woman just sighed, disappointed, but didn't even bother to try to change his mind. Herzog nuzzled on her neck, and his cold breathing against her tattooed skin gave her goosebumps:

"We could play chess...? Make a session of that extravagant manicure you like so much...? You could teach me to bake a cake, so that I can bake you one for your next birthday...?" He suggested, decided to not let that little argument ruin their weekend. The Standartenführer felt her relax a little on his embrace, and increased his attempts to restaure her good humor. "Play... how's the name... "Metro"? Or... "Sniper Elite"?"

"Or "Call of Duty: World at War" in the zombie mode!" Agnes chuckled, and he started to move his head, tracing circle-like patterns on the back of her neck with the tip of his nose, his cold skin and his cold breathing sending shivers down her spine:

"I refuse to take part in the genocide of my species, mein Schatz..." He liked what he was doing to her. Maybe a little too much for his own good. "What about... that stupid game, with the irresponsible father..."

""Happy Wheels"?" Agnes bit her lower lip not to gasp. "Or... one of those "Troll Games"?"

Herzog stopped moving his head and sighed against the back of her neck. He felt her shiver a little stronger, and Agnes knew that, so she tried to be casual and finished her chocolate milk:

"The "Troll Games" are fine." The Standartenführer decided, concluding he had liked that little moment of closeness more than he should and that he should stop right there.

The next day was also beautiful, but Agnes had better ideas than going out. Cuddling with Herzog, for example.

Herzog was in the kitchen, looking outside behind the curtains. Agnes had taken a shower and was drying her hair in the bathroom. Suddenly, a little and ridiculous yellow car invaded Herzog's view of the woods outside, and the Standartenführer narrowed his eyes; the car was small, silly-looking and apparently had only two seats. Who would drive a car with only two seats, cars were supposed to be big and armoured and powerful! He tilted his head, confused, and the silly car stopped right next to Agnes' jeep.

The young policeman came out of the car and Herzog growled. The policeman was wearing civilian clothes, which meant he was off duty, so why was he making his way to Agnes' door? What did he want?

The bell rang.

Herzog decided it was the perfect occasion to open the door, grab that peasant by the neck and snap it. Yes, perfect! So, he made his way out of the kitchen... and noticed Agnes going to open the door.

With two big strides he had stopped in front of her, blocking the way. She rose her pierced eyebrow:

"Hein... someone rang the bell." She said. He ran his fingers through her hair:

"Look at this hair, you need to dry it better!"

"My hair is fine." And the young woman tried to bypass Herzog as the bell rang again. Trying his best to keep smiling and stop himself from growling, Herzog hooked an arm around Agnes' waist and made her spin graciously back towards him. He embraced her and, slowly and hopefully not too obviously, started to walk towards the bedroom, half-dragging her along:

"It's not important." He assured. Agnes laughed:

"Well, let me check that!"

"No, I'm not letting you waste your time like that." _Do something, you idiot! Plan something brilliant to make her forget about that bloody bell!_, he thought furiously.

The bell rang again:

"Hein, come on..." Agnes wriggled a little to free herself, but the Standartenführer just pulled her closer:

"It's not important." He assured again and had this glorious idea of doing what he had done the day before; she had enjoyed it, so maybe that would distract her from the bell. He made her spin around and pulled her back against his chest, then started to nuzzle on the back of her neck, but apparently that was little effective:

"Hein Herzog, I'm serious... let me go check my door."

"You should cool down a little!" He exclaimed, and gave a tentative lick where her neck and shoulder met. Agnes froze, feeling the goosebumps all over her body, and widened her eyes, not really believing what had just happened. Slowly, she glanced over her shoulder, to look at Herzog's face. Herzog's heavily embarassed face:

"That's a really bad joke, I'm not sure if I like Sascha's influence on you..." The young woman mumbled, and the Nazi zombie offered her an innocent smile. However, lately Herzog's innocent smiles were all devoid of innocence. Trying to hide his embarassment, Herzog ran a finger over a segment of the barbed wire tattoos on one of Agnes' arm:

"Now you have... what's the name... 3D, isn't it? Now you have 3D tattoos?" He commented with a smile and couldn't help but feel proud; all of those goosebumps on her skin were due to him. Agnes laughed nervously:

"Very funny, Hein..."

The bell rang again.

Agnes looked at the door and Herzog cursed mentally. She was not going to see that peasant, he would do anything to gain her full attention and make her forget about that damned door bell. With a deep breath to gather some courage, he decided that his tongue would do a very good job at playing with her lobe piercings. In fact, he had to admit he had been willing to try that for a while. The young woman tensed up when she felt his cold tongue play with the four metal rings on her earlobe... and had to admit that felt too good:

"What are you doing?" She asked and hoped that her voice had sounded normal. Herzog grunted, and that made her shiver visibly:

"I have no idea..." He admited, enjoying the situation a little too much. He held her earlobe between his teeth and pulled gently. Agnes allowed herself to close her eyes and a small smile played on her lips; finally, Herzog was giving her the attention she had been wanting.

The bell rang again.

The young woman let out a sigh and managed to escape from Herzog's embrace:

"If I answer, whoever it is will leave us alone." She said, mostly to herself. She missed the wrathful expression that crossed Herzog's face; _No, if you answer, the bloody peasant won't leave us alone!_ Very well, desperate times require desperate measures!

Agnes had walked away some three steps when something caught her on the stomach area and pulled her behind, and she collided with a massive, freezing wall. A freezing wall that rose and fell against her back, quickly. Agnes had no animated freezing wall in the middle of her living room... Slowly, she looked down, to see what had caught her.

A twisted grey t-shirt, like a rope, and Herzog's hands were clutching it so strongly his knuckles were even paler than what they already were. Agnes widened her eyes and looked up. Herzog was looking at her, utterly embarassed but carrying what Agnes supposed to be a smile. She turned around, slowly, and discovered that the massive freezing wall was Herzog's bare chest. And that was a most glorious view.

The bell rang again.

"To the heck with the bell..." She mumbled, looking at the maze of scars before her. And Herzog smiled proudly and puffed his chest. By the look on Agnes' face, the trick worked.

They stared at each other, Agnes studying every detail with her hazel eyes and giving Herzog the feeling of being back to the Officers Course during an important exam. Then, slowly, she raised a hand and started to play with his SS ring, hanging on his neck, but soon she lost interest on it and pressed her hand over Herzog's freezing chest.

No heartbeat.

Herzog let out a howl and swore the contact of Agnes' smal and faintly warm hand against his skin gave him goosebumps, even though his skin was normal, and that the frozen blood in his veins had warmed up and ran wild. He managed to pull himself together and moved to the bedroom, and the young woman followed him without a second thought. They sat at the border of the inflatable mattress and Herzog fondled her cheek; she had a different smile on her face, he had never seen that one before, and her eyes seemed completely brown, dark and eager. He had to admit he was loosing the reins of the situation, he hadn't planned it to be like that.

But now... he didn't want it to stop. The Standartenführer offered the young woman a gentle smile and rested his forehead against hers, their noses touching. And if she had that look on her face... now Herzog was sure Agnes felt for him what he felt for her.

Outside, an engine started and a car was driven away.

And the smile vanished from Agnes' face and she frowned. Herzog frowned lightly too and tilted his head to one side:

"Mein Schatz...?" He called, caressing her cheek again:

"Hein... there was someone at my door... someone who just left..." She said in a calm voice, moving away from him. And for some reason, Herzog was instinctively afraid of all that calm. Her frown grew bigger. "You just... you did this... you _seduced _me to stop me from checking my door...!"

"It's not that..." Herzog tried, and he felt sick for lying. Agnes was still talking calmly:

"Hein... this was pretty low for a man like you..." She crossed her arms. "I wonder if you recall our deal... in which I would be alive for the next 20 years, do whatever pleases me, go wherever I want to, meet whover I want... do you remember that, Herr Standartenführer?"

"I..." He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, but no sound came out. Agnes was right, that had been low, dirt low. He looked away from her for brief moments, feeling suddenly sick and dizzy, and after a while forced himself to look up at her again.

Agnes looked... sad, disappointed... angry, very angry, but at the same time she was trying to maintain a calm demeanor. He bit what was left of his lower lip:

"I meant it..." He mumbled lowly, and the little voice in his head laughed before this pathetic and poor and absolutely un-romantic excuse.

The young woman nodded and looked down:

"Get out of my house." She said, her voice so cold it startled Herzog. He frowned:

"What?"

"Raus." (Out.) She repeated in a still very calm voice. The Standartenführer just blinked his eyes, confused. "Out of my sight."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I don't want you in my house and I don't want to see you for a while." She said this so coldly, so calmly... Herzog felt like there was a void inside him. He shook his head and tried to hold her hands; he simply couldn't let that happen, he had to explain himself, make her understand he just wanted her, all for himself. His little world was shattering again.

Agnes just moved away, looking at her black socks.

Defeated, Herzog nodded, slowly, stood up and went to pick up his uniform from her wardrobe. He changed clothes, put on his boots and left without a word. Yet he didn't go far, he stayed in the shadows, among the trees surrounding the house; he was planning to give Agnes a few hours and then go back, and explain himself, and apologize for such ridiculous behaviour, and hopefully redeem himself. He felt sick, disgusted, and cursed himself for what he did.

* * *

The moment Agnes heard the front door closing, she burst into tears. Stupid, silly woman, believing Herzog loved her. But of course he didn't; if he did, he wouldn't have given her all that attention exactly when the door bell was ringing. For some reason, he had wanted to keep her away from the door, and that scared Agnes a little. And if he did love her, he would go out with her, even if just for a walk in the mountains.

Sobbing, she opened her wardrobe and looked herself in the mirror, and that only made her cry more; who would want that skinny, short, uninteresting woman? Not even a dead man! With a rageful yell, she slammed the doors closed and punched the wood, regretting deeply telling Herzog to go away. Maybe she should have stayed quiet and live a little that illusion, be blissfully ignorant and happy...

Agnes laid down and curled in a small sobbing ball, cursing herself for beliving she could have had a chance to have something with the Standartenführer.

She had no idea for how long she laid there, but the bell rang again. She sighed, feeling exhausted, but forced herself to stand up and go to the door. She knew she surelly looked horrible, but she couldn't care less about that. The young woman opened the door and, for brief seconds, hoped it was Herzog...

Erik smiled at her. His smile died, though, and he frowned:

"I... is everything fine?" He asked, concerned. "I was here a few hours ago... did I wake you up, or something?"

"Nevermind..." She sighed and leaned against the doorframe. "What do you want?"

The young policeman scratched his head, nervously:

"I was going to ask if you want to go out for a coffee, but... maybe I shouldn't be here."

Agnes tilted her head to one side, frowning; Erik was quite Herzog's opposite... but it wasn't Erik who she wanted... yet the one she wanted didn't want to go out with her and didn't want to give her the attention she wanted... but Erik had always been nice and Herzog had really hurted her this time.

So, why not? Why not allow herself to feel what she wanted to feel.

She offered him a small smile:

"I'd invite you in but... my house is a mess. Do you mind waiting?"

Erik widened his eyes. He actually looked cute, blonde-haired and grey-eyed, tall and slender. Maybe a little too preppy, but... Agnes tilted her head to the other side, and he smiled widely:

"I... I'm waiting in my car! Take your time, really, no hurries!" He babbled and started to walk backwards towards his yellow and black Smart. The young woman nodded and closed the door.

Watching from the shadows, Herzog had the impulse of going there and slaughter than idiotic Norwegian peasant. He had no idea of what they had said to each other, he couldn't hear them and from his hidding place he couldn't see Agnes, the stupid man was blocking his view. But the young woman had closed the door right on his face and that pathetic excuse of a policeman was retreating to his even more pathetic excuse of a car. And that was enough to make Herzog stand still.

However, his concurrent got in his ridiculous little car and just stood there... like he was waiting. Herzog started to worry; maybe he should attack him now, killing that man would be the easiest thing in the world! Still he hesitated and waited, watching. Some time later, when he was considering again going to kill the Norwegian man, Agnes opened the door and came out.

She was wearing the too short skirt and the too revealing corset. Herzog hurried to look into his binoculars, feeling like his dead heart had skipped a beat; Agnes had the attractive makeup on, and she was smiling. Smiling! And she got in the peasant's little ridiculous car.

And he drove away with her.

Herzog let his binoculars hang on his neck and he clenched his jaw, still looking at the place where Erik's car had been. He felt his heart rip apart into millions of little bloody pieces, and it hurted, and it was the worse pain he had ever felt; it pierced, it burned, it throbbed, it made him dizzy and sick. It was twice he had that feeling.

The Standartenführer let out an inhuman, gruesome howl.

* * *

**Weeee, review?**


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's note: **LESSONS ARE OVEEEEEER! Now I just have the finals. ;-;

Anyway, hopefully I'll manage to write more. :D

* * *

"Are we really doing this?" Sascha asked in a hopeless hiss. Fritz elbowed him, not taking his eyes off the little goldfinch that was resting on a nearby dead tree. "Fritz, we're soldiers! We don't watch birds!"

"I like birds!"

"I'm dying of boredom..." The blue-eyed zombie sighed sadly. The younger soldier couldn't care less and giggled when the goldfinch fluffed up its feathers and looked like a pompon.

But the little bird spread its wings and flew away and Sascha was about to celebrate... when he noticed something; huge, dark and gloomy clouds were forming in the sky, hiding the snowy mountains from the sunlight. Maybe that was what scared the bird away:

"What the heck is this?" Fritz asked, looking up; the clouds moved with unnatural speed towards the tops of the mountains, and they were so compact the day darkened considerably. Sascha frowned and had a bad feeling about it. He stood up and shook the snow off his uniform:

"I'm going to check that. You go look for more birds." He said and walked away. He had the brilliant idea to follow the clouds, and on the way to the top of the mountain, in the northen slope, Sascha found Herzog.

Herzog was screaming, and howling, and growling, and cursing. The louder he growled, the darker the clouds became. He was punching what Sascha thought to be a huge and massive column of snow, like his life (death) depended on that, and the Standartenführer moved with so much speed and strenght the blonde-haired zombie felt tired just by looking at him.

Then something growled. A growl that didn't belong to Herzog, but to something much bigger, and heavier, and way older than him.

Sascha widened his eyes in sheer horror as he watched his officer step to one side and the column of snow he had been punching crumble into millions of pieces of snow... and rock. A huge crack crawled upwards and downwards, and with the sound of a wounded beast the mountain succumbed to that wrathful attack and huge pieces of rock began to roll down, slowly at first, but speeding up together with the snow and the smaller pieces of rock. A powerful avalanche of snow and bones of the earth rolled down the moutain, getting bigger and bigger, and faster and faster.

There was a massive hole where Herzog had broken the mountain. Sascha looked at it, terrified, and then at Herzog.

But the Standartenführer was on his knees, bent forwards and with his back facing Sascha. Letting out a barrage of profanity, Sascha hurried to jump over the deep crack on the snow and rock before him and kneeled next to Herzog, placing a hand on his shoulder:

"What did you do this time?" Sascha asked, his voice shaking a little from both concern and fear. He had never seen Herzog that angry.

Herzog didn't answer; instead, he wrapped his arms around the younger soldier, completely unaware of the strenght he was putting into it, and cried. Herzog was probably the first creature on earth to cry without tears, but the lack of it didn't mean lack of suffering. For a moment, Sascha didn't know what to do and just widened his eyes, terrified, feeling Herzog's big strong body being shaken by sobs and tearless cries. Then, slowly, he returned the embrace, shoved the officer cap off Herzog's head and patted his shaved scalp:

"You know, I saw you crying once and I prayed I'd never see that again. But you just had to, didn't you?" The blonde-haired zombie grumbled. "I hope this time you tell me what happened."

Herzog said something, imperceptible due to the sobbing and crying and his childish attempt to hide his face on the crook of Sascha's neck. But Sascha's neck was too small for Herzog's head. Desperate, the Standartenführer punched the ground next to them, opening a new, but small, crack on the snow. The blonde-haired soldier yelped:

"Instead of punching the mountain, that has absolutely no fault, you could talk to me!" And he patted Herzog's large shoulder. "Herzog? Come on, what happened? You know how much I hate to see you down, what's wrong?"

Herzog just howled, a heart-ripping sound, and Sascha patted the Standartenführer's shaved head with renewed speed and decided not to question him for a while.

They stood like that for what felt like hours. It started to snow, gently, and the clouds above them were getting even darker. A lightening flashed in the sky, and Sascha bit his lower lip nervously:

"Herzog, come on, talk to me. I don't know if you know, but the weather around us is pretty ugly right now! So you better calm the fuck down, the last thing we need is getting cooked by a lightening!"

But Herzog just cried, and it took him a long time to finally pull himself together and look at Sascha, who frowned; the Standartenführer looked older, exhausted, but his face had no marks of crying. The young soldier had to admit he was glad he didn't have to see those blue eyes reddened and puffy again.

The Standartenführer sighed and hid his face on his hands for brief moments, doing his best not to curl in a ball and hide under the snow. He forced himself to look at Sascha again, and shook his head:

"It happened again..." He said in a choked voice, and his body was shaken by another sob. His face contorted and he began to cry again, no tears running down his face. He felt miserable, empty and cold... and a complete failure. Again. He had failed again. He had lost his beloved to another man. Again.

Sascha sighed patiently and frowned:

"You messed up with Agnes?" He asked. Herzog punched the snow again:

"She went straight to the peasant's arms!" He hissed. "She didn't even let me explain!" He punched the snow again. "Goddamit, «errare humanum est*»!"

"«Sed in errare perseverare diabolicum*»." Sascha added, and couldn't help but feel proud of his sudden epiphany; he had heard Herzog say that, many decades ago. "And you persist in error, because of your universe-sized pride. Now, tell me exactly what happened."

Herzog hid his face on his hands again, utterly ashamed, but he told Sascha what had happened. Sascha's frown grew bigger, and when Herzog was over the blonde-haired zombie facepalmed and punched his own helmet angrily:

"You know, before you drag someone to bed, you should tell them about your feelings first! That avoids misunderstandings! Fuck you Herzog, didn't I tell you to talk to her? Why didn't you listen to me?"

"And what was I supposed to do, tell her I love her? Fine, and then what? She has a life, a job, she's the whole day at work, and what about me? What would I do, go up and down the mountain everyday? That wouldn't give me enough time to plan our next moves! Stay at home and wait for her? Can you imagine how useless I would feel?"

"But you do are fucking stubborn and fucking proud!" Sascha held Herzog's shoulders and shook him. "She would be fucking happy, don't you think? She would be fucking happy to come back from work and find you! And we don't need to be fucking killing peasants all the fucking time! I've said this before and I'm fucking saying it again; you've done enough for us, now it's time to fucking do something for yourself!"

"People who love each other are not supposed to live apart, are they?" Herzog grabbed Sascha's wrists, maybe with a little too much strenght, and widened his eyes. "Are they, Sascha?"

"You fucking kill her and bring her with you, since you don't want to move in to her house!"

"I can't kill her, we have a deal!"

"You are fucking pathetic!" Sascha yelled, shaking his head. Then he realised what he had just said, and widened his eyes.

Herzog just stared at him, and for moments the young soldier thought the Standartenführer would punch him to oblivion. But Herzog just sighed, sorrow written all over his face, and he let go of Sascha's wrists and looked down; there, Sascha thought him a failure. Just like he had feared. He shouldn't have told him anything. He would prefer to keep all that grief and rage for himself than having to bear the thought that Sascha, his Ordonnanz, his right arm, his second-in-command, his comrade and best friend, thought him a pathetic excuse of a man.

_But that's what you are._, the little voice sang inside Herzog's mind. _You lost Erika, and now you lost Agnes!_

"Herzog, I didn't mean to..." Sascha mumbled. "You just... you just need to understand that... sometimes, sacrifying our ideals brings us more happiness than just... sticking to them." He bent sidewards, trying to peek at Herzog's face. "Fritz and I... we did that. And I regret nothing about it."

"Liar, you are constantly denying your feelings..." Herzog grumbled. Sascha narrowed his eyes:

"But at least I did something! I still do something, unlike you."

The Standartenführer just sighed. He felt exhausted and empty, yet he forced himself to stand up. Sascha picked up his officer cap and handed it to him.

* * *

Herzog managed to put on a stoic face when he found his troops gathering at the entrance of the cave. He and Sascha counted them and they all got in the cave. Herzog went straight to his little chamber. Fritz frowned when he noticed that Sascha intended to follow their officer, and held his arm:

"It's poker night, you can't leave me playing poker alone with the Wehrmacht guys!" He exclaimed; one of the Wehrmacht soldiers had cards with him, and the zombie soldiers had decided to organize long sessions of poker nights. Fritz wasn't a skilled poker player, unlike Sascha, and he didn't want to face the consequence that every loser of their poker sessions had to go through: sing opera.

Sascha shook his head and gave Fritz his best «I'm so sorry!» look:

"Agnes is upset with him, he's not feeling well. Besides, I might have accidentally offended him..." The blue-eyed soldier explained. Fritz grimaced:

"Well, you've just made me upset and offended me too."

"It's just poker, you can handle that."

"Even Dietrich plays better than me!" And with a frustrated growl, Fritz went to the bigger hollow of the cave. Sascha just shrugged and went to Herzog's little chamber.

The chamber was completely dark; the candle had burned out months ago and Herzog hadn't replaced it yet. Even though Sascha couldn't see in the dark, he could feel his surroundings and know exactly where to go. Also, somehow Herzog's figure managed to be darker than the environment around him. Sascha sat on the field bed, next to Herzog, unfastened the chinstrap of his helmet and removed it from his head:

"I love her..." The Standartenführer mumbled sadly. "What do I do now?"

"Give her some time." Sascha suggested, remembering the advice Herzog had given him about Fritz. Next to him, Herzog sighed:

"She's going to spend that time with the peasant... she'll forget me."

"It's impossible to forget you!"

"She probably doesn't even love me... in spite of what nearly happened today." With a sad sigh, Herzog supported his elbows on his thighs and rested his chin on one of his palms. "I fooled myself..."

"Don't be so selfish! You know, that night I «camped» with her... she told me something interesting. Just don't tell her I told you, or she'll kill me." Sascha adopted the same stance of his Standartenführer. "She said your face is fine, that she was very upset you didn't kiss her and she said no one would ever want her."

"I want her! Can't she see that?"

"You didn't tell her, did you? And when you did, you probably left her with the feeling you're just using her to gather information about the enemy." Sascha smiled, bitterly. "You never thought about that, did you?"

Herzog bit what was left of his lower lip; their closeness, their mutual trust, their cumplicity... He let out a low, suffering howl; if Agnes had reciprocated everything... if that morning Agnes had looked at him like that... Suddenly he started to laugh, but his laughter was dry and joyless; of course, he had done practically the same with Erika, without all that intimacy, of course, and even though he had told her about his feelings, there had never been anything «official» between them. At least, for Erika it hadn't been official...

Herzog shook his head:

"No, I didn't..." He finally answered. In the hollow next to Herzog's, a chorus of laughter was heard. Sascha rolled his eyes:

"Fuck you Herzog... now that you realised that, I hope you move that muscular ass of yours and ask her to marry you."

"I can't..."

"And here we go again!"

"I swore I-"

"-you'd avenge us, blahblahblah... You just did, we killed the peasants that killed us! Or what was left of them."

"But-"

"Have you ever talked to Agnes about this?"

"No..."

"And have you ever asked her why she thinks herself such an uniteresting creature no one would want? You know, my father was a Psychiatrist... you and Agnes need one urgently, I can do that!"

"No, because she isn't uninteresting! And no, we don't need a Psychiatrist, thank you!"

"Have you ever told her that?"

"I-"

"You didn't."

"You didn't let me answer!"

"Herzog, even Dietrich could do better than you! You give her a week, then go back down and sit together to talk."

"But the peasant!"

"Fuck the peasant, it's not the peasant she wants! And she'll realise that!"

Herzog hissed angrily:

"She went straight to his arms!"

"You've just hurt her, of course she went to look for comfort!"

"I never looked for comfort with other women!" This said Sascha knew that Herzog had blushed, and he couldn't help but smile, amused:

"But as I told you before, not everybody is made of Krupp steel like you. When Fritz was mad at me, I looked for the company of my other comrades, and so did he." Sascha's smile died. "When we are hurt, we look for other people to tell us what we want to hear."

"That's nonsense..." Herzog grumbled, even though it did make sense. Sascha chuckled:

"Please tell me you compliment her..."

"I did." And it had been... twice! When she had used the too attractive clothes and makeup and when she had tried to convince him about the blue locks on her hair. Herzog felt sick; he had been completely careless... again. He sighed, tiredly. "Maybe it wasn't enough..."

"Fuck you, Herzog..."

They stayed in silence for a while. In the other hollow things seemed to be pretty animated. Sascha looked down at his boots and sighed:

"You're not pathetic... I just... it came out. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, really. You know how much I respect you."

"I am pathetic."

"When I fucking say you're not fucking pathetic, that's because you're not fucking pathetic!" Sascha hissed, annoyed. "If only you dealt with your feelings like you deal with your soldiers..."

"Life would be easy, I know..."

* * *

Agnes had to admit; Erik was funny, and cute, and interesting. They had gone for a coffee, and then had walked a little in the downtown, and now he was driving her back home. She had learned that he had intented to go to the university and study Arts and Design, but had opted instead for the police, and that he wasn't from the Finnmark and that was the first time he was so distant from his homeplace. Agnes had told him little about her, only that she had wanted to join the Army but had opted for Archaeology.

The day, that had been sunny and warm, all of a sudden became dark, and huge gloomy clouds began to appear, moving with unnatural speed to the mountains. Erik frowned:

'You have some bad weather at your place!', he commented and turned on the radio to listen to the weather forecast. Agnes frowned too:

"It's... normal. I like bad weather, though." She said, and had the grim feeling that Herzog was behind that. If so, she could add 'weather controller' to the list of Herzog's attributes: «Nazi, zombie, soldier, leader, necromancer, cooker, phisiotherapist, house keeper, driver and walking encyclopedia».

The music on the radio was interrupted by the news; seemed an abnormally huge avalanche had blocked the road at the base of the mountain, and caught 3 cars. There was one mortal victim. That had to be something done by Herzog, and to be such a thing he was surely really mad.

Agnes was suddenly very afraid of going home, but she had to.

When she locked the door after her, she thought the house too silent, too empty. Dangerous at first, but when she concluded she was all by herself she found the house extremely depressing.

With a sigh, Agnes opened the wardrobe to look herself on the mirror. Herzog hadn't said much when she wore those clothes... well, he didn't say a word that she wanted to hear. Erik, on the other hand, even improvised a poem about how she looked like a cute Disney fairy with a gothic touch. The young woman bit her lower lip, covered in dark purple lipstick; Erik was right. If Herzog didn't want to see it, so that was his own problem.

Content, Agnes had a shower and ate something for dinner while watching a movie on her laptop, comfortably sitting on her inflatable mattress. While the food lasted she was able to ignore the absence of Herzog's presence, but when she finished dinner she realised how lonely she felt, and how empty, and how cold, in spite of Herzog's freezing body temperature. She shook her head and shut down her laptop, suddenly bored with the movie; Herzog had been using her and had tried to isolate her from the world, even more than what she already was. That had hurted and scared the young woman, and she decided it would be better for her not to see him for a while.

Hopefully, that would make him realise they _had _to be more than friends. There wasn't much to say about that, their actions spoke for them.

_But of course, I'm forgetting a detail..._, Agnes thought bitterly as she laid down and curled up in a ball, too tired to pity herself and cry again, _not even a dead man wants me... Cool, I should ask Erik what's so interesting about me..._, she finished her thought with sarcasm, but caught herself smiling.

* * *

*"To err is human, but to persist in error is diabolical." (Seneca)

**Weeeeeeee, review?**


	30. Chapter 30

Herzog spent the entire night awaken, lost in thoughts. Sascha was with him, waiting silently but feeling immensely useful for just staying there, beside Herzog.

Then the Standartenführer stood up and made his way outside, and his Ordonnanz hurried to trot after him. Outside it was still dark, and the gloomy clouds still loomed mournfully over the snowy mountains. Herzog took in a deep, useless breath:

"I... I just have to give her time to cool down, right?" He asked quietly. His voice sounded normal again, and his face had an apparent calm. Sascha came to stand in front of him and looked at his eyes. Sad, scared blue eyes. Sascha knew he shouldn't feel like that, but he was very glad to see emotions on Herzog's eyes. He offered the Standartenführer a reassuring smile:

"Exactly. In the meantime you cool down too, and we can start the preparations for the big offensive."

Herzog grunted and looked down as his boots. He had to admit he was a little calmer, even though calmer didn't mean better. Still, he was glad Sascha was there, and couldn't help but blame himself again for being so stupid when Sascha had wanted to help him with Erika and he had shoved the young soldier away. Herzog sighed:

"What about that policeman?"

"You'll have to trust her, Herzog." Sascha shrugged. "Killing him will only drive her away from you... At least, killing him now."

Herzog just nodded and crossed his arms, looking blankly at the horizon:

"Danke, mein Freund." He said after a while in silence. Sascha puffed his chest, proudly.

* * *

A week gone by. Herzog managed to entretain himself planning his most glorious offensive on the Norwegian enemy, but at night he would lose himself in thoughts, and «ifs», and memories, and that annoyed him. He wanted Sascha's company; listening to the young soldier's ridiculous stories and common jokes was better than his own musings, but he also didn't want to worry the blonde-haired soldier, nor wanted Fritz to resent Sascha's absence. However, much for his dismay (or not), Sascha knew him too well, and after 3 nights of Herzog torturing himself with his own thoughts Sascha joined him. Every night. And he couldn't shut up. Herzog couldn't help but wonder what kind of sorcery granted Sascha with so much subjects of conversation.

Things were a little better for Agnes.

She didn't want to think about the Nazi zombie, but that was practically impossible at home. She also decided there wasn't anything wrong in having lunch with Erik, who would always show up at the museum by lunchtime to invite her out. The young policeman was a nice company, always eager to go with Agnes to the downtown or to the riverside or seaside for a walk.

But what Agnes liked the most on him was how he noticed her. The day they had gone out for the first time he had called her «Disney gothic fairy», on the following day at lunch time he had complimented her hair, on the next day it had been her tattoos, and in the other day it had been her nails.

Today they were at the local pizzeria and Agnes was telling the young policeman about local archaeological sites. The pizzeria was a small and cozy place, rustic and familiar, and their table was next to the window. Erik was looking at her with an amused smile:

"You have beautiful eyes." He said when Agnes was over with the sites. She smiled and looked down, still not used to daily compliments. "It was the first thing I noticed on you. I remember you had brown eyes at the hospital, when the room was dark. But when we met again in the ambulance you had green eyes, because there was light coming from the window. And right now you have green eyes."

"You do have a thing for details, don't you?" The young woman chuckled, trying to stop her smile from becoming sad; Herzog had never said such things. Erik puffed his chest dramatically:

"Oui oui, I'm an artist, artists live of details!" He replied with a fake French accent. Agnes laughed. "And I absolutely love your laughter, I really need to make you laugh more."

Agnes just shook her head, still smiling, but her smile had lost all the joy; Herzog had never told her such things. At this point, Agnes didn't know anymore what exactly he had wanted from her, if he had in fact wanted something or if she had imagined that all. The young woman shook her head, trying to dismiss the dead Standartenführer from her mind:

"Do you want to go out this Saturday?" Erik asked, bringing her back to reality. The young woman bit her lower lip, thinking; she probably should be alone for a while, she felt like she needed to think, both about Erik and Herzog, but on the other hand she really liked that kind of attention. She had already caught herself wishing the other kids from the orphanage could see how well Erik treated her, so that they would understand Agnes wasn't a freak.

She nodded.

* * *

Herzog was looking at the horzion, hoping he would look busy thinking about something. It seemed to convince 99% of his men, who passed by, saluted and went to their posts. But the not convinced 1%, Sascha, stopped beside him with a frown:

"You know what you have to do, right?" He asked. Herzog nodded and gave up on trying to look busy:

"Kneel, beg her pardon and make her lunch."

"You forgot the part where you confess your feelings and-"

"-you already know the drill; you're in charge while I'm out. Heil Hitler." Herzog saluted and walked away, down the mountain, with large and calm strides. To anyone else he would look like just another confident commander. But for the blonde-haired zombie standing at the entrance of the cave, Herzog was like a man going to the gallows. Sascha made a face and saluted too, even though it was useless now:

"Heil Hitler."

Herzog made his way down the mountain, and when he was sure no one, including Sascha, would see him, he picked a small folded paper from a pocket of his trench coat and unfolded it; he had written the beautiful speech he hoped would make Agnes forgive him, but the more he read to make sure he knew exactly what he was going to do, the more he felt like he had never read such thing in his life, or death, before. And that feeling, and the fear that he would just stare at the young woman with his mouth open, waiting for the words to come out, was absolutely terrifying.

He kept walking, lost in thoughts, until there was forest soil under his boots. He snaked among the trees, shoved the paper into a pocket and kept his hands behind his back, and allowed himself to lower his head and frown, like his head was too heavy to keep upright due to the accumulation of thoughts.

Finally, Agnes' house. Just a few meters away, the Nazi zombie stopped behind the trees. It felt strange, after a full week without seeing Agnes, and having leaving her like that. Herzog let out a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding and swore he could feel his heart race madly in his chest. He prepared to start walking again... but then the ridiculous car appeared on the dirt road and parked in front of Agnes' house. Herzog widened his eyes and froze; that was the young policeman's car. Instantly, Herzog's blue eyes fixed the house, waiting for something he knew would happen, but didn't want to believe it would.

Agnes came out of the house. From that distance, all the Standartenführer could tell was that she was wearing a dress way too short and way too revealing. He watched as she got in the peasant's car and he drove away.

The Standartenführer just stood there, petrified. His little world had crumbled a week ago, so he was quite surprised to notice he felt his little world crumble again. Slowly and painfully. And he understood he had _hoped_ that he would have a chance with the young woman.

He had hoped! Herzog was not a man of hoping; for him, facts were facts, and that's it. Even when expressing himself by «I hope...», it was merely for the discourse. He didn't hope. He analysed the situation and took conclusions; there was no such thing as «I hope we win this war!» when your army is weak, when your soldiers are few, your weapons and strategy old-fashioned. There was no hope in that, no miracle to happen and magically save the situation.

And by now Herzog should know there was no hope in love, too. He looked down, feeling defeated, and smiled sadly.

He, who had tamed his emotions and spirit in such a way to be a perfect killing machine.

He, who had led his men to several glorious victories.

He, who had won over Death.

The Standartenführer hesitated, then he walked to the house and slipped the paper with his little speech under the door. Maybe Agnes would notice it. Maybe she would read it. Maybe she would understand. Herzog walked away, laughing sadly; there, he was hoping again! _You are old and pathetic._, the voice hissed in Herzog's mind. However, the dead SS leader gave it little attention, and made his way back to the mountains.

* * *

Sascha dug a tunnel in the snow and found Fritz, listening carefully to any possible threats at the surface. The brown-eyed zombie frowned:

"I thought your post was 10 meters away from mine." He said. Sascha shrugged:

"I need to talk to you."

"By that look on this ugly face of yours, it's serious." The younger zombie smiled. "You and serious business, that's something I never expected from you!"

"You better sit, shit's going to be serious, really."

"I'm already sitting, in case you didn't notice."

Sascha looked around, to the small den of snow where they were hidden. He listened for a while, to be sure there wasn't anyone else nearby, be it under the snow or above it, and when he concluded they were alone Sascha pulled his helmet off his head and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair:

"You know... Herzog's screwed because, even though I nagged him like Hell to tell Agnes about his feeling, he did nothing."

"Ah, finally I got to know why you're spending so much time with him..." Fritz mumbled, not really enthusiastic; he hated when Sascha didn't share with him what was going on, and he had to admit he hated when Sascha followed Herzog around, apparently forgotten about the younger soldier's existence. Sascha shrugged:

"So, because I'm a really clever guy, I decided to have this talk with you."

Fritz frowned and took off his helmet. Sascha took in a deep breath and looked at the missing fingers of his gloves:

"You know, I wish I had a prettier place to tell you this, and this only means Herzog's being a bad inlfuence on me, I'm getting cheesy because of that big bald bastard." He sighed and looked at his dirty boots. "Anyway... you know that even though I never said it out loud, the «L» feeling is here. You know, right?" And Sascha looked at Fritz hopefully, expecting the younger soldier to smile, nod and spare him from having to say it.

But Fritz just arched his eyebrows, fake innocence and fake confusion written all over his face. The little sadistic bastard! That was one of the reasons why Sascha was so head over heels for him... The blue-eyed zombie let out a barrage of profanity:

"You little idiot, you'll make me say it won't you?"

"Say what?" And to add more innocence to the picture, Fritz tilted his head to one side. Sascha grumbled a curse, made a snowball and threw it at his comrade's face:

"I love you!" And he made another snowball, trying to hide his embarassment. "Wipe that shit eating grin off your face!"

But Fritz just laughed, to the point his frozen cheeks felt sore. He dragged himself closer to Sascha and wrapped an arm around his comrade's shoulders, and rested his forehead against Sascha's:

"I love you too. Do you know how many years I waited to hear that?"

"You could have told me first, stupid."

"You retard took the initiative, that was your responsability." Fritz's smile grew to an unnatural porpotion. "Besides, you're older than me... remember?"

"Two years, big deal!"

They chuckled, both of them trying to act cool and relaxed, like that hadn't been important at all. They both knew they were failing epically. Sascha was the first to grow serious again and he held Fritz's chin between his thumb and index finger:

"I'm serious, Fritz. I was serious the moment we pulled our first prank together on Dietrich, but you already know how stupid I am and that I tried to take it like it was no big deal. Fuck it, this is the hugest deal ever, and I can't believe I almost died without telling you!"

"We have to thank Herzog for bringing you from the dead just to tell me you love me, huh?" Fritz was still smiling and Sascha laughed, and slapped his head.

* * *

Herzog went straight to his little chamber and sat on the field bed. He was glad he didn't find any of his men, and thanked whoever ruled the Universe for Sascha's absence. This time he really needed a moment alone.

He needed to think, to clear his mind. He knew he was devastated, he just didn't understand why he was so calm. Why he hadn't pulled his Mauser and killed the damned bastard right in the spot. Herzog removed the officer cap from his head and played a little with it, absently.

Why waste a precious bullet with a peasant?

He stopped playing with the officer cap and snarled; sooner or later, Agnes would show up. Even if only moved by her archaeological curiosity, she would show up, to see what had happened to her talking and moving archaeological artifacts. She could not even notice the little paper Herzog had slipped under her door, but she would come, and alone.

And Herzog would be waiting. With a sly smile, he made sure his Mauser was loaded.

* * *

**Weee, review?**


	31. Chapter 31

"So, how did it go?" Sascha asked as he stepped in Herzog's private chamber. The Standartenführer was playing with his dagger, and that was enough to make Sascha raise his red flag and come to a halt. "Herzog?"

"She's seeing the peasant." The Standartenführer informed calmly, throwing his dagger in the air and then catching it by the blade between two fingers. "I left her my speech, though, and I'm sure sooner or later she will come by and ask about it."

"And what will you do?" Sascha felt like he already knew the answer. Herzog just smirked. "Just... don't hurt her..."

Herzog caught the dagger between his index and middle finger and cast an angry look at Sascha:

"Why shouldn't I?" He hissed. The blonde-haired zombie frowned, feeling like he was walking on thin ice. He went to kneel in front of Herzog and, carefully, suceeded in taking the SS dagger away from him:

"Because you'll regret it deeply and, as I've told you before, I hate to see you crying." Sascha stated patiently. Herzog just looked at him and let out a sigh that sounded like a grunt. The younger soldier tilted his head to one side; he knew Herzog was done with being hurt, and he himself was done with Herzog being hurt. But he also knew that Herzog's impetuosity would only bring him more pain, and even though he had to admit he was a little disappointed with Agnes, he knew the young woman hadn't done anything like Erika.

Sascha sighed.

* * *

_Poland, September 1940_

_The Einsatzgruppe got in their house, in the outskirts of Warsaw, in all its glorious fuss. The young soldiers were still excited from the fight, even though some of them had a few bullet scratches. Herzog was the last to get in and he locked the door:_

_"Is there anyone who needs stitches or to pay a visit to the hospital?" Herzog asked in a tired sigh:_

_"Nein, Herr Standartenführer!" His soldiers replied in choir. Herzog just nodded and walked away to one of the bedrooms that he had proclaimed as his, since his soldiers could deal themselves with those minor injuries._

_Sascha followed him with the sight, until Fritz shook him so hard he had to look away from Herzog:_

_"What now, brat?" He asked the brown-eyed soldier. Fritz stuck his tongue out:_

_"I'm going to help Albrecht, do you want to help too?"_

_"Yeah, I'll help by checking on Herzog." Sascha said, messed Fritz's hair and walked away. Herzog had been clutching to his arm since the fight with a bunch of rebellious Poles had ended, but Sascha had been too worried with Fritz to pay attention; now that he was sure Fritz was intact, it was time to check on Herzog. Sascha crossed the entire ground floor and reached Herzog's room. The Standartenführer had closed the door, something that was quite unusal from him. Sascha knocked at the door and got in, closing the door again._

_The Standartenführer was sitting on a chair, his back facing the door. His upper half was bare; the trench coat and the uniform jacket were neatly hung behind the door, and the shirt was folded over the bed. Sascha rolled his eyes and went to sit at the edge of the bed, to look at Herzog._

_Herzog was bowed over his arm, hairless eyebrows furrowed, while looking at a bullet wound. It was bleeding too much for Sascha's liking, and the Ordonnanz frowned:_

_"Maybe you're the one who needs to go to the hospital." He suggested. Herzog looked at him, slowly, then burst into laughter, much for Sascha's surprise:_

_"You do have a sense of humor..." Herzog sighed and unsheathed his SS dagger. Sascha's frown grew bigger as he watched Herzog widen the bullet hole with the sharp tip of the dagger, and then reach out for a pair of tweezers over a stool next to the chair, where he had placed his «first-aid kit». Sascha felt really disturbed and an unpleasent shiver ran up his spine, and he watched (even though he wanted to look away) as Herzog fished a bullet from his arm:_

_"The little bastard..." Herzog said and grimaced to the bullet, like it could understand him._

_Herzog did it alone, with no help, with no signs of pain or discomfort! Sascha let out a whimper when Herzog left the tweezers and the bullet aside and grabbed a needle with thread. The older man cast his Ordonnanz an amused look:_

_"What? You've done this before." He said and started to stitch himself. Sascha sighed weakly, feeling sick:_

_"I never did it to __myself__!" The blonde-haired soldier mumbled. Herzog just chuckled. "Goddamit, don't laugh! That's sick!"_

_"You want me to cry? I'm sorry to disappoint you, but a bullet scratch isn't enough to make me cry."_

_Sascha said nothing, he just watched. He eventually looked away again when he realised Herzog was going to wash the wound with some cheap vodka they had found in the house. By the corner of the eye, Sascha noticed that Herzog didn't flinch, grimace, hissed... nothing. The Ordonnanz let out a curse when Herzog reached out for the bandages and stood up, grabbed the bandage and kneeled in front of Herzog:_

_"Shit... just... shit!" Sascha grumbled and started to wrap the bandage around Herzog's arm. The Standartenführer rose his eyebrows:_

_"What's wrong with you, young man?" He asked. Sascha stopped bandaging the wound and cast his officer a stern look:_

_"No, the question is «What's wrong with __you__, old man?»! Why did you do this alone?"_

_"I've had worse..." Herzog commented casually._

_Sascha took the chance to look at Herzog's bare upper half; he had seen it before, in fact he had even seen Herzog naked, when they had to bathe, but he had never been this close, and now that he was this close he could see Herzog's scars weren't only big... they were ugly. Big, deep and ugly. Sascha knew a bit from a few; the one in the middle of Herzog's chest had been a French bayonet in the Great War, the very deep ones on his arms and hands had been barbed wire, also in the Great War, the awkward scar on his right shoulder had been from a broken clavicle during the Officers Course, the vertical scars on his abdomen had been shrapnel in the Great War... Sascha grimaced; it was obvious that Herzog had had worse than a bullet stuck in his arm, and the younger soldier was sure that many of those scars had been the result of wounds that hurted way more than a bullet. Sascha knew a bit about the horrible life in the trenches, he had heard stories of his granfathers, had read in the books and had heard Herzog's own stories, when he was in the mood to share something._

_Sascha sighed and continued to bandage the wound:_

_"And what is worse, the wound itself or having no one to talk about it?" He asked. Herzog's time to frown:_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Those scars... I'm sure what caused them hurted as fuck. And you're not married, even though you said you have someone in mind. What I'm saying is what proably hurts you more is not having someone to talk about this, about how you got those... you know, someone to take care of you."_

_"I can take care of myself, Sascha..." Herzog replied, nonetheless taken aback. He had never thought about things that way; scars were scars. Scars were caused by wounds. Wounds were bad luck, lack of care or lack of attention. But now that Sascha mentioned it, he actually would like to have someone to tell those little stories to. He would like to tell Erika about it; how he had thought he was going to die when the shelter he was in collapsed, in the first days of 1918, and because of that a metal rod had pierced his side, missing his right kidney for milimeters, or how he had tried to save his men with shrapnel in his legs... He allowed himself to wonder if, after their marriage, everytime he went back home wounded she would take care of him, or would be repulsed by the wounds and the scars, or would be upset by the lack of medals on his chest._

_Herzog sighed and looked down, and noticed Sascha had finished bandaging his arm and was still kneeling next to him, looking up at him:_

_"You don't need to be always taking care of yourself; I'm your Ordonnanz, I'm here not only for the boring paperwork you leave for me!" The young soldier grumbled annoyedly. Herzog offered him a sad, tired smile, and stood up, flexing his arm._

_The stitch under the bandage throbbed, spreading an acute pain up and down his arm. He shrugged; he had had worse. Sascha stood up and thought it would be helpful to wrap an arm around Herzog's waist and help him to go to the bed, that was just two steps away from the chair. The Standartenführer let out a booming laugh:_

_"What are you doing, Sascha?"_

_"I'm helping you, goddamit! Or at least let me have the feeling that I'm helping you!"_

_With a chuckle, Herzog decided to be a dead weight and leaned completely on his Ordonnanz, too slender to manage by himself with the massive thing that was Herzog. With a yelp, Sascha fell in an awkward angle on the bed, and Herzog fell over him. The blonde-haired soldier let out a barrage of profanity while Herzog laughed, truely amused. Still he moved away and lie down, carefully pushing Sascha off the bed with his boots._

_Sascha sat on the floor next to the bed, smiling:_

_"See, I took care of you!"_

_"You deserve a medal for that."_

_"I'm serious, Herzog." Sascha's smile died. "The next time you need stitches or stuff like that tell me right away." The Standartenführer noddled absently and crossed his arms over his face. "Shit, no! Don't ignore me like that!"_

_"I'm not ignoring you, I'm trying to sleep for 5 minutes!" Herzog lifted one of his arms a little and a blue eye peeked at Sascha. "I'm getting old to spend the entire night awaken looking at a map."_

_"But you're still young to fish a bullet from your arm..." The young soldier grumbled, then smiled. "You should consider getting yourself glasses, men of your age usually begin to lose their sight."_

_Herzog uncrossed his arms and gave Sascha one of his ugliest frowns. But Sascha just laughed, and eventually the frown left Herzog's face and he crossed his arms over his head again:_

_"I need no glasses."_

_"But you need a nap."_

_"Unlike you, I don't exactly sleep at night."_

_"Good to know, sometimes I feel like having a poker game, I could come over and-" A blue eye peeked again at Sascha, not really amused, and the blonde-haired soldier chuckled. "Nevermind..."_

_"I try to, it's difficult..."_

_Sascha stood up and decided to let Herzog rest. At least until dinner time..._

* * *

_Norway, December 1944_

_Sascha sneezed loudly and cursed, stumbling across the corridor of the wooden cottage that was the Einsatzgruppe's headquarters. He had gotten a cold with some serious fever that fortunatly was finally leaving him alone, and because of that he had to stay inside while everyone else, including Fritz, was outside. Right now he should be lying down, resting, but he had gotten thirsty and had escaped to the kitchen to fill his flask with water. Now, he was making his way back to his and Fritz's (and some other comrade's) room._

_He heard someone coughing and frowned. His heart sped up; was there an intruder in the house? The cough again, and Sascha followed the sound. It was coming from the nearest room, Herzog's room; there was a spy in the house! But Sascha was a veteran for some reason, and he would even sleep with his pistol. So he picked up his pistol from the holster on his belt and, carefully, peeked into the room._

_Herzog was lying on the bed, across the room, in the wall opposite to the door. He was in underwear, lying over the blankets, and the fireplace cast an eeri orange glow on him. He was coughing and moving his head slowly on the pillow, his eyes shut. Sascha frowned; seemed he wasn't the only one who had gotten a serious cold._

_The blonde-haired soldier put his pistol aside, still frowning; he had no idea Herzog was ill. In fact, he was sure no one knew about that; Sascha had seen Herzog in the morning and the Standartenführer looked... normal. But by now, and Sascha smiled bitterly, the young soldier should already know that, with Herzog, things aren't always what they seem..._

_The Standartenführer's body was shaken by a violent cough attack. Sascha bit his lower lip; he considered forgetting he was mad at Herzog, even if just for a day, get in that room and help Herzog, because he clearly needed help and it wouldn't do him any good to pretend he didn't just to look tough in front of his men. Sascha smiled a little; it would be good to sit with him and talk a little... try to catch up, or just make him company, maybe crack a joke or two and make Herzog smile, because the blonde-haired soldier really missed seeing that serious, aging face soothe with a smile. And he was still the Standartenführer's Ordonnanz, and since Herzog hadn't given him paperwork for ages, maybe he would be useful if he got Herzog a soaked cloth to help him with the fever._

_But Sascha's smile died and he shook his head; no, Herzog had sent him away when he had tried to help, and Sascha was still very hurt for that._

* * *

"Besides..." Sascha patted Herzog's shoulder. "... I'm sure Agnes already feels horrible. I think she's a little like you; her internal struggles are enough to give her a bad time, she doesn't need someone else to do that." But Herzog just shook his head, and Sascha grimaced. "Fine, do as you wish..."

* * *

Agnes had a lot of fun with Erik, even though she began to feel very uncomfortable when he started complimenting her nonstop. Still she did her best to hide her discomfort.

When she got home she noticed a little folded paper on the floor. Agnes frowned, hung her bag and picked the paper, then unfolded it and began to read. Her frown grew bigger as she recognised Herzog's handwriting, and her frown was replaced by a really sorrowful expression as she read those words.

The young woman let out a sigh and leaned against the wall, looking sadly at the paper in hands. She should be happy, that was all she wanted to hear from Herzog! But if the paper was there, or he was still very ashamed of his behaviour and had simply slipped the paper under the door and ran... or he had come to talk to her, seen her going out with Erik and left the paper there. And this last option was scaring Agnes; she had noticed, in the very beginning, that Herzog was a little too much possessive... and she had noticed how he had made it clear he didn't like other men around her, be them Bergen or Erik. What would the Standartenführer do to her, if he felt betrayed?

Agnes recalled what he did to Erika, and that only scared her more. She briefly considered three options, moving slowly to the bedroom:

-go look for him and try to talk about it

-ignore and see what happens

-run to another part of the country

Then she sat on the inflatable mattress and shook her head; she was being paranoid! If Herzog really had feelings for her, he wouldn't harm her. In spite of what happened to Erika... Besides, Agnes was just supposing he had seen her with the young policeman, she wasn't sure of that. She decided she would look for him the next day. It would be good to finally (try to) sort out things, it was just horrible to spend the whole day thinking about the dead Nazi officer while being in the company of someone else, it didn't feel right and in fact it wasn't right; not for her, not for Herzog... and not for poor, iluded Erik.

And so in the next morning the young woman found herself halfway up the mountain, and the day couldn't be better; cloudy, windy, dark, it was raining in the lower lands and snowing up there. Just perfect to meet Herzog. Per-fect. With a sad sigh, Agnes shoved her gloved hands into the pockets of her thick jacket and hid her nose in the scarf around her neck. She started to feel observed, and unlike the previous times, or maybe she was just paranoid because of Herzog, this time she felt whoever was watching her wasn't exactly willing to be friendly.

A few meters ahead she reached a lightly forested area with pines and she stopped to take a few calming breaths and let her knee rest a little. For some reason her heart was pounding more than the necessary, and she wasn't even climbing the mountain that fast. The young woman shook her head, trying to calm down, then looked ahead and prepared to move on again...

And that was when she saw Herzog, standing in the distance among the trees, an ominous black spot in the peaceful whiteness of the snow. The first thing Agnes concluded about him was that he was tense. Too tense. Her heart began to run faster, and it sped up even more when Herzog began to move towards her.

Letting out another nervous sigh, Agnes licked her lips, telling herself it was just Herzog. Herzog, a kind gentleman, a close friend, the man she had fallen for.

Herzog, a dead Nazi officer, who had told her proudly about all the people he had killed, who relied on her to keep killing more people, who did whatever was needed to achieve his goals.

What could possibly could wrong...?

The Standartenführer stopped a meter away from her, hands behind his back. His face had his normal serious expression, but there was something in his eyes that made Agnes step back. And Herzog stepped forwards, tilting his head. Agnes felt like she was even smaller than what she already was:

"Herr Standartenführer...?" She called, not really sure how to adress him. He grinned, and she stepped back again, and he stepped forwards:

"Fräulein Agnes." His grin grew wider, and Agnes thought about a skull. "It has been a while."

"We need to talk."

"We do."

"So... hm..." Agnes gave another little step back, but this time Herzog remained still. "Are... are you coming with me or...?"

"No." Herzog brought his hands from behind his back and unsheated his SS dagger. "You are coming with me."

Agnes widened her eyes, looking from the dagger to that dangerous thing in Herzog's blue eyes; determination. The young woman cursed herself; she should have stayed quietly at home for another week and give him time to cool down... She knew she couldn't fight him back, not even in her best dreams... so she turned around and ran, because she was sure that if she stayed, it would hurt. Even though she knew it was useless to run and that it was a very bad idea, because everybody knows that the best chance to survive a wild animal is not running, under any circumstance, because that triggers the predatory sense.

The SS zombie wasn't exactly a wild animal, but he was definitely a predator.

Herzog ran after her with an angry roar. Agnes wanted to run faster, but all those trees didn't help much. Her only hope what that Herzog, way bigger and heavier than her, would have a harder time with the trees. However, before she could reach open field and take advantage of the adrenaline and fear speeding her legs, Herzog grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back, and her small body collided with a tree.

Agnes hit her head and everything went black for a few seconds, and when her vision came back she saw everything double. She yelped, looking with wide, scared and confused eyes at the SS zombie and his shiny dagger; it was ironic how she had asked him this little favour before and he had refused... and now he seemed very enthsiasmed with the idea while she wasn't very sure about it. Agnes just hoped he would at least consider that she had given him a helping hand and give her a quick death.

Herzog pressed her against the tree, holding her by the neck, and aimed carefully to the heart; he had concluded shooting her would be a mess, and stabbing her would give her enough time to feel how a s_evered heart_ hurted. With a satisfied grunt, he pressed lightly the end of his dagger over her jacket:

"Then we will have all the time in the world to talk. With no interruptions." Herzog assured her. "And when the peasant comes looking for you... I'll make sure you'll be here to watch what I'll do to him."

He was about to give the little and definite push to the dagger when he looked at her hazel eyes... and noticed a tear running slowly down her face. Why was she crying, was she scared?, would she miss the peasant?, was she disappointed because Herzog would break his part of their deal? The Standartenführer frowned and tightened his iron grip around her neck:

"Why are you crying?" He asked in a hiss. Agnes widened even more her already widened eyes and opened her mouth to try to speak:

"I... I'm sorry!" She managed to whisper, trying to breathe. Herzog shook his head and this time tightened his grip around the dagger:

"For what?"

"You...! Paper...!"

Herzog just looked at her, still frowning. She was sorry. Erika had been sorry too! But Agnes had been looking for him, she wanted to talk. She was just curious, that's it! Agnes had tried to run away! Well... who wouldn't...? The little voice inside Herzog's mind told him not to waste his chance, because after this Agnes would certainly realise the monster he was, and would run away, and he would never see her again. But there was another little voice, that sounded a little too much like Sascha, that scolded him for being careless and having taking her for granted... just like he had done with Erika... and that he was being unfair. They had a deal, afterall, and it had been Herzog who had caused all that mess. The little voice that sounded like Sascha even called him greedy and arrogant bastard, among other «nice» things.

He let her go, like her neck had burned his hand, and he stepped back clumsily and eventually lost his ballance and fell. Agnes fell too, coughing, and took a shaking hand to the back of her head and pressed it, feeling a lump and something sticky on her fingers. She looked at her hand and frowned; blood.

And for a while they just stood like that, Herzog looking at her like he had been slapped with a towel soaked in freezing water, and Agnes looking at the blood on her fingers. Then she let out a shaky and little hysterical laugh:

"Shit..." She looked at Herzog. "You could at least leave me as a decent corpse... I don't want my head open in two, or with a hole, or something like that...!"

"You've hit your head too hard, stop with the nonsense..." The Standartenführer grumbled and stood up. Agnes was laughing, but there was something wrong in her laughter and that was disturbing Herzog. He sheathed his dagger and helped her to stand up. She held on his arms with the strenght of a piton, and looked at his face, still laughing, her eyes wide:

"Shit, now there's two of you!" She closed one eye. "Still two of you!"

Utterly disturbed, Herzog eventually gathered enough good sense to seize her and carry her back home.

* * *

When he locked the door behind them Agnes was still laughing, and that hysterical and strange laughter was seriously getting on Herzog's nerves. He undressed his trench coat and removed the officer cap from his head, and tried to be as gentle as possible to undress Agnes' jacket, since she seemed petrified and didn't move at all. Then, carefully, Herzog managed to make her sit on one of the big puffs in the living room and he kneeled in front of her.

Her laughter died and she looked around, and slowly her eyes went back to their natural size. She looked at him and frowned lightly:

"You were going to kill me." She concluded. Herzog sighed:

"You are brilliant, Fräulein..."

"Why were you going to kill me, I just wanted to talk!" She widened her eyes again. "Goddamit Hein!"

"You were with the peasant!" Herzog accused, aggrieved. "Regardless of my feelings!"

"Oh, and you've been using me to know what's going on the world of the living, regardless of my feelings too!"

"I didn't use you!" His neck and cheeks became a darker shade of grey. "You helped me of good will, I didn't force you to tell me anything! All I asked was for you to find me more soldiers!"

Agnes opened her mouth but closed it again; he had a point. Yet, she opened her mouth again:

"You don't trust me, you even seduced me to keep me away from the door!"

"And I was right, I turned my back and you ran straight to that peasant's arms!"

"We have a deal in which I'll be alive for the next 20 years, being alive includes meeting people!"

"Last time we talked about it you didn't like that deal, and you didn't like people!" Herzog thought about his SS dagger again:

"Last time we talked about it, you insisted in complying with the deal and use me to-"

"Goddamit woman, I didn't use you!"

They stared at each other, wide blue eyes looking at wide and teary hazel eyes that looked completely green. Herzog was the first to look down, and he felt breathless and exhausted; if there was someone he hadn't expected to argue with, that someone was Agnes.

The young woman sighed and looked down too, her doubled vision worse due to the tears on her eyes; arguing with Herzog wasn't really in her plans. She sighed again and bit her lower lip; she knew she had hurt him, she knew he had never overcome what Erika did. What bothered her the most was that she wasn't quite sure if Herzog had understood he had hurt her too.

Agnes reached out for one of his hands, but she was seeing four hands, which of them were real? Herzog noticed she was trying to hold one of his hands and, with a tired sigh, he held one of her hands instead and looked at her. She was still looking down:

"The peasant, as you say, and me, didn't do anything wrong; we just went for walks in the park, we went out for a coffee..." Agnes looked at him with puffy reddened eyes. "The kind of stuff I wanted to do with you. And the peasant said I was pretty, funny, had beautiful eyes, that kind of crap I wanted to hear from you. So yeah, sorry for deluding myself for a while..."

Herzog didn't know how to reply that. Well, he knew... he just didn't know how to reply that without humiliating himself, but seemed his humiliation was the price to pay. He massaged his temples with his free hand, feeling Agnes' small and delicate hand squeeze his big and dead cold hand:

"I'm... I'm sorry for being careless and relying on the basic military principle that dictates subordinates are unconditionally loyal to their superiors... archaeologists included."

Agnes laughed, this time a normal laughter. And she felt light; Herzog, like Sascha had said, was simply a hapless man when it came to feelings. He hadn't mean to hurt her. Herzog allowed himself to smile too and remembered Sascha telling him that Agnes hadn't forget about him. She hadn't mean to hurt him.

Then she stopped laughing and grimaced:

"I'm seeing double, there's a lump on the back of my head and it's bleeding..." She mumbled. Herzog helped her to stand up:

"You're going to take a shower and keep your eyes closed for the rest of the day. If by tomorrow you're still seeing double... I guess I'll have to take you to the hospital..."

"Or you can just kill me, but in a nicier way that excludes your dagger." Agnes offered him a tired smile and hugged the dead Standartenführer.

* * *

In the next morning Herzog went to Agnes' room and sat on the inflatable mattress; he had slept on the puffs, in the living room. Agnes was still asleep and hid a little under the blankets when he shook her by the shoulder:

"Come on, Agnes... look at me." He commanded patiently. Slowly, the young woman changed to a sitting position and opened her eyes. At first there were two Herzogs looking at her, but it slowly became only one, even though he seemed to be in the middle of the fog. She closed her eyes again:

"Quite foggy but... there's just one Hein." She informed:

"Gut. And you head?"

"Doesn't hurt anymore." And she lowered her head to allow him to feel the lump; it was still big, but the scratch on it wasn't bleeding anymore:

"I'll get you breakfast."

"I need to call my boss and say I fell or something like that..." Agnes grumbled and groped for her cellphone. Herzog frowned and pushed it towards her fingers, that curled around it:

"It's Sunday..."

"Oh..." Agnes chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I can make the sick call tomorrow..."

Herzog stood up and walked away, when she called him again:

"Hein?"

"Ja?"

"Can you please tell me when you leave the room? I already feel dumb talking to you with my eyes closed, I'd feel even dumber if you leave me talking alone..."

The day gone by, full of awkward silences and awkward fiddle-faddles, until Herzog decided he couldn't take it anymore and he installed himself on the mattress, next to Agnes, and pulled her to a tight hug:

"I meant everything I did and everything I wrote... I suppose you've read the paper?"

Much for his joy, Agnes made herself comfortable on his embrace and rested her head against his side, like she was trying to hide under his arm:

"I did, it was so well-written that, for a moment, I thought Goebbels himself had written that."

"I'm serious."

"Me too." Agnes moved away and opened her eyes to look at him. Her vision was still foggy and he frowned and opened his mouth, surelly to tell her to close her eyes again, but the young woman just shook her head. "What do we do, pretend nothing happened?"

Herzog looked down and bit what was left of his lower lip; they couldn't just pretend the feelings weren't there. Well, they could, but it would be awkward, uncomfortable, he didn't want that and Sascha would surelly nag him to the brink of insanity. And the faster he behaved like a decent man, the faster Agnes would forget the peasant, and therefore she wouldn't be angry once Herzog killed him.

He cleared his throat with a gutural sound and intertwined fingers with her:

"Or we could give it a try, with a proper start, in which I give you a decent explanation on why, in spite of what I feel for you, still have my soldiers as a priority." He suggested hopefully and smiled innocently. And this time it was actually an innocent smile. Agnes just looked at him and, slowly, a huge smile spread on her face and she closed her eyes again, leaning against him:

"Yeah, I've always wanted to understand why you care more about Sascha and his stinky friends than me."

"My troops don't stink!" Herzog pouted, then sighed. "Remember when I told you I swore I would avenge my men and torment the enemy until the end of times?" Agnes nodded against his chest and the Standartenführer took the chance to run his fingers through her long dark-copper hair, being careful to avoid the lump. "They are all I have, Agnes. When we first went on mission together they were just 18 years-old boys..." He smiled sadly. "I obviously felt responsible for them... still feel." The young woman looked at him and opened her eyes again, smiling. "I grew fond of them, they are the only Einsatzgruppe I ever had... I didn't take them back home." Herzog's smile died, and so did Agnes'. "I just... I'm so used to them, to live with them... I can't bear the thought of leaving them, even if just for a while... Look around Agnes, it's not fair for me to be here and leave them alone in that cave..." He sighed sadly, and added. "Even though I do have feelings for you and Sascha guarantees me no one would mind."

Agnes closed her eyes and leaned her head on his chest again. She remembered he had told her how close he and his troops were, and she actually understood the bond because she had seen it happen with her brother and his comrades. That she understood perfectly, and she even thought cute how Herzog had unconsciously adopted all those «children»:

"You could kill me, kick out the Doctor to make room for me and ta-daah, problem solved!" She suggested, because this seemed the most logical solution. But she also knew Herzog would talk about that stupid deal of them, and she would mention their argument from the day before, and the moment would be ruined and she really didn't want that. "Or I can shut up once and for all with the «kill me» part because I don't want to argue with you again, and stick to be your archaeologist and spy and to our weekends for the next 20 years..."

"I just... I didn't want us to be apart..." Herzog said in an almost inaudible grumble, much like a child excusing for having assaulted the pot with the biscuits.

And Agnes concluded she couldn't be mad at him, because he was just too adorable for her to be mad with. Like Sascha had warned her, seemed she would have to be patient... The young woman sighed and smiled sadly for brief moments, then rose her hand to stroke Herzog's injured cheek, being careful not to touch the gash:

"Just let things happen, yes? And Hein, modern people-"

"I was born in 1898, damn it! Everything was so perfect, back then!"

"Okay, topic's over."

Herzog was glad for that and sighed contently, still stirring her hair and enjoying the feeling of her small hand on his face. However, it didn't take long until a sad smile spread on what was left of his lips:

"You should be afraid of me..." He mumbled. Agnes poked his cheek with a finger, slowly:

"Maybe I should... but I can't forget you're a good man, afterall." She replied, and traced his jaw with her finger, then rested her hand over his heart. Dead heart.

* * *

**Weeee, review?**


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's note:** thanks so much for the review, and the fav, and there are still people following this story, yay! :3

* * *

Since Agnes recovered her normal sight quickly, both she and the Standartenführer decided it was better not to make the sick call, or the policeman would show up sooner or later at her door. So, on Tuesday, Agnes went to work and Herzog back to his soldiers.

And he almost succeeded in making his way up the mountain without interruptions, but just when he thought he was safe, he felt someone approaching and then Sascha had wrapped an arm around his shoulders:

"I'm so fucking proud of you!" Sascha exclaimed happily. Herzog looked at him by the corner of the eye:

"You were actually spying on me..." He concluded. He had been expecting that, when he had made his way to meet Agnes:

"I was just curious... So, how did it go?"

"Agnes' fine. I'm fine. Everybody's fine."

"You two talked?"

"You won't stop nosing around my business, won't you?" Herzog grumbled and stopped, turning his head to look at Sascha. His Ordonnanz's face was just too small for his smile. "We talked. We'll give it a proper start, this time."

Sascha made a little victory dance that eventually made Herzog smile too, and they began to walk again. The Standartenführer shoved his hands into his pockets, and there was still a small smile playing on his lips:

"She loves me."

"I've been telling you that for a while..."

"Now that you nosed around my life, I'm going to nose around your life; what about you and Fritz?"

Sascha blushed and kicked some snow, and his lips did the impossible and stretched into an even bigger smile:

"He made me say it, the little bastard... He knew the whole time, but still made me say it!"

"And I believe it was a task too hard for you, Herr I-Don't-Give-A-Damn."

"Shit, don't call me «Herr», that makes me fell old and I'm just on my 20ies!" Sascha shrugged. "And it's not like I don't give a damn, it's Fritz we're talking about, I just..."

"... too cool for feelings?"

"Yes, I froze... remember?" The blonde-haired zombie laughed. "I just feel a little uncomfortable... but it's Fritz... I do anything to make that little bastard smile, even humiliate myself."

"I'm glad to know that." Herzog nodded contently, because Sascha's happiness did matter to him. The younger zombie rolled his eyes and licked away the excess of blood coming from his mouth:

"Care to tell me exactly why you support this? It's wrong, Fritz and I shouldn't-"

"I was taught it is wrong too, because it weakens the good German man and it's anti-natural. However, I saw you and Fritz on the battlefield long before you two realised your feelings... and I concluded you weren't weak after what happened. So, if that didn't make you weaker men, I see no problem." Herzog chuckled and patted Sascha's back, and the smaller zombie nearly lost his ballance. "Besides, you're my annoying Ordonnanz, my right arm, my dearest comrade and best friend... so I obviously would do anything to make you happy."

"You do are a ridiculously huge guy with an even more ridiculously bigger heart." And Sascha couldn't help but blush a little.

* * *

Agnes was feeling excited again about her work, something she hadn't felt since she had told Herzog to get out of her house. And to make things better that day was particularly busy, with tourists coming and asking things.

However, her good mood was shadowed at lunch time, when Erik showed up, all smiles and stinking to perfume. Agnes put her lunchbox aside for a moment, decided that there was no better way to thank Erik for the past week than keeping him alive... and keeping him alive would require him to never get close again. Agnes knew Herzog well enough to tell the Standartenführer would kill the young policeman when he had the chance, and she was sure it would be a painfully slow and cruel death.

Erik stopped at the counter, almost glowing with joy:

"Agnes, good to see you!" He exclaimed. Agnes smiled too, shyly. "Do you want to have dinner with me, tonight? I'd like to ask you something, but this is not the place..."

The archaeologist bit her lower lip, her smile dying, and she shook her head slowly:

"Thank you, but... I can't."

"Tomorrow?"

Agnes sighed and opted to tell him the truth right away:

"Look, last week I was really mad at someone and... believe me, you kept me sane and kept my tear channels from drying. But..." Seeing the disappointment on his face, Agnes felt she had to reach out to hold his hand, over the counter. "... it's not fair for you, neither for that someone, and neither for me."

Erik just nodded, visibly unhappy. Yet he made a huge effort to smile again:

"Who's the lucky guy?" He asked. Agnes bit her lower lip again:

"Hm... he's not from here, probably you've never seen him." And hopefully it would take a while until Erik sadly crossed paths with Herzog. Erik nodded:

"I hope he treats you well... Were you mad at him?"

"Yeah..."

"I hope there isn't a problem with us being friends."

The young woman kept biting her lower lip; oh, poor and innocent Erik, of course there was a problem! A huge problem! Especially now that Erik was obviously looking for something else with her. Agnes moved her hand away from his and tried to look busy with something behind the counter:

"He's a little... possessive, and jealous..."

"Is he violent?" Erik windened his eyes and peeked behind the counter; he simply couldn't imagine Agnes, such a small and fragile woman, being victim of violence. Apparently he had forgotten how she had looked like when he had found her, after the Soviet zombies incident. Agnes looked at him, frowning:

"Well, not to me." Despite the recent encounter with Herzog's SS dagger. Agnes forced a smile. Erik sighed sadly:

"Ok... just... be careful, ok?"

"Okay..."

"And you have my number... call me whenever you need."

"Thank you."

With a sad sigh, Erik left the museum. When the door closed, Agnes peeked from behind the counter; she felt really bad for making Erik sad. But that was the right thing to do, and she hoped he would stay away and not get easily caught by Herzog. She couldn't help but feel guilty too, for giving him vain hopes during the last week, but now there wasn't much she could about it, and unlike Herzog Agnes didn't spend much time thinking on 'ifs'.

Two days later, just before the closing time, a woman came in the museum and made her way straight to Agnes, who had just came downstairs after closing the 2nd floor. By the wrinkles in her face, the woman should be on her late 50ies:

"Are you in charge, here?" She asked in a high-pitched voice that made Agnes frown a little:

"Yes..."

"Are you local?"

"Yes..."

"Are you an historian?"

"I'm actually an archaeologist, but-"

"But you know the local History, right?"

Agnes sighed patiently and crossed her arms:

"Yes..."

"I want to donate something to the museum." The woman puffed her chest a little, to look mighty and important. Agnes rose her pierced eyebrow. "It was you who organized that terrible event with the rebels against the Nazi power, right?"

"Yes..."

"Well, my mother was among those who died in the bus." The woman gave her a stern look, and Agnes did her best not to look guilty. Apparently she succeeded, because the woman kept talking, giving her no importance. "She had something she wanted to donate to the museum, once she died."

Agnes just nodded, hoping the annoying visitor would hurry up and let her go home:

"And what is it?" The young woman asked politely. The older woman smiled:

"A box! With the jewels the Nazis stole from her!"

Agnes widened her eyes, suddenly very interested; oh, Herzog would like that!:

"But... I thought those boxes were lost...?"

"Oh, and they are! You see, my mother told me when my father and the other men attacked the Nazis' headquarter, halfway up the mountain, they found all the things they had stolen, and they obviously retrieved them. My mother was the only one who never touched that box again, because it was cursed, just like the men who had stolen it." The woman sighed sadly. "I never believed in that kind of things... but look at what happened to her, maybe the jewels are indeed cursed. Let us hope the Nazis don't come back from the grave and try to retrieve it!"

"Yes, let us hope!" Agnes smiled innocently and curled a lock of her hair on a finger. "Is that the only surviving box?" Aside from Herzog's. The woman nodded. "I presume you have it at home."

"Yes."

"Very well, this will require some paperwork, and we have to inform the police and the director of the museum." With a friendly smile, Agnes guided the woman towards the counter. "I need your contact, and I probably have to schedule a meeting between you and the director."

The woman just nodded, puffing her chest again.

* * *

Sascha and Fritz made their way down the mountain, pushing and kicking each other playfully. Their plan was to wait for Agnes, annoy her a little and then go back to the cave. It was past lunch time and the day was pleasent. Once they reached the forest soil, they stopped playing and moved quickly and silently among the trees, until they began to see Agnes' house among the trees and decided to stop there.

And that was when Fritz noticed a ridiculous little car parking in front of Agnes' house. The brown-eyed zombie frowned and elbowed Sascha, who had sat on a rock and was absently playing with his Luger pistol. Sascha looked up at him, confused, and Fritz signaled with the head the little ridiculous car. Sascha had to stand up to see, otherwise the tree branches wouldn't let him.

Erik got out of the car with a bouquet of roses in hand, left it at Agnes' door, then went back to his car and drove away. The zombie soldiers waited, until finally they left the protection of the trees and made their way to the house:

"We can't let her see this!" Fritz exclaimed as they crouched near the bouquet and looked at it like it was a bomb about to explode. "You told me Herzog and Agnes were fine again, what if-"

"Yeah, we have to destroy this!" Sascha agreed, and even stretched his arm to take that menace away. However, he stopped midaction and frowned. "No, wait..."

"Why?"

"What if the guy mentions this, asks Agnes if she liked the flowers..."

"Ah." Fritz nodded, understanding:

"She'll probably think it was Herzog, and she'll probably be mad at him again."

The two zombies looked at each other, then to the flowers, then to each other again. They stood up and walked back to the forest.

At night, when Agnes came home, Sascha and Fritz were standing at the door of her house. The young woman smiled as she left her jeep; she had missed them. However, none of them smiled, and the blue-eyed zombie pointed an accusing finger to a bouquet of roses placed in front of her door, and Agnes frowned:

"We thought about burning this shit, but maybe you wouldn't like that..." Fritz explained. Agnes picked up the bouquet, frowning; she had to admit the roses were beautiful, some red and others white, and there was a heart-shaped card tied to the bow of the bouquet. She bit her lower lip, not really sure of how to feel, and opened the card to read it:

"Jeg elsker deg." She mumbled:

"Which means?" Both zombies asked, and they both rose their eyebrows. Agnes sighed tiredly:

"It means «I love you» in Norwegian." She shoved the bouquet into Sascha's hands and unlocked the door, suddenly angry. "I'm not really in the mood for your shenanigans right now, so you can either burn it or give it to Fritz, I don't care, and tell Herzog I have something interesting to tell him." And she closed the door.

Sascha blushed and looked at Fritz. The brown-eyed zombie blushed too and frowned:

"I'm a soldier! SS soldier! I don't want flowers!"

"So... we burn this?"

"Aber ja, Sascha!"

Inside the house, Agnes let out a couple of hissing curses. Erik had no right to do that, she had been pretty clear! What if instead of Sascha and Fritz it had been Herzog finding those roses? He would be devasted again! Then the young woman laughed sadly, undressing her denin jacket; curious how in a moment she had been all by herself, and now there was a man trying to convince her with flowers and another man capable of killing for her...

* * *

In the following day Erik didn't show up at the museum and didn't text Agnes, and she was more than happy for that. Also, when she went home at night, Herzog was waiting for her, standing at her door like a guard:

"Sascha said you had something interesting to tell me." He stated when she came out of the jeep and trotted towards him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she offered him a radiant smile:

"I have. Do you want to stay?"

"I would love to... but tonight my men and I are going in a small reconaissance mission..." Herzog sighed and glanced over his shoulder. "My men are waiting and..." The Standartenführer frowned and raised his growling voice. "... Sascha, my little idiot, I'm seeing you!"

"Fine, so the thing is... I know where another box is." Agnes announced, and her smile grew even wider when Herzog looked at her again so fast his neck made a little snapping sound. "It's the only remaining box... and in the next month it will be taken to the museum."

Herzog just blinked his eyes, slowly, until he bit what was left of his lower lip, and Agnes felt his fingers tap lightly on the small of her back:

"I do need more men... and more weapons... maybe some armoured vehicles..." He grumbled. "Do you have any details about that... donation?"

"I have the owner's adress... She talked to me."

Herzog just hummed, pleased. From the darkness among the trees around them, came the sound of little giggles and chuckles. Herzog blushed and stepped back:

"I have to go, now. We'll talk about this later." He said and walked away. When he reached the first trees, where his soldiers were hidding, all the giggling stopped. But even though he couldn't see, Herzog knew his soldiers were smiling. He let out an annoyed grunt. "Schnell, meine Herren..." (Quick, gentlemen...)

And so did the Nazi battalion, on their way to the first target of their big offensive; the power plant. It was located on the top of a hill, in the valley between the museum and Talvik. It was past midnight when the Nazi zombies reached their destination, and they ran up the hill and stopped before the wire fence of the power plant. Herzog looked around, trying to sense someone else besides his men, but there were only them on the top of the hill. The Standartenführer folded the map, hid it in an inside pocket of his trench coat and turned around to face his troops:

"Seems the main entrance is on the other side. This location is perfect for our sabotaging operation. Now, I was told by Fräulein Agnes-" His troops giggled, much for his dismay. "-that the fence might be electrocuted. I have no idea of what happens if we are electrocuted, so we have two options: we give this a try, or I find a «volunteer»."

"I can try!" Dietrich chirped joyfully and stepped forwards. Konrad tried to stop him, but another zombie, Jürgen, held him by the back of his uniform jacket and chuckled. The clouds finally uncovered the moon, and Herzog was able to see the silly smile on Dietrich's face. Blessed creature, Dietrich was always smiling! The Standartenführer sighed and nodded. Visibly satisfied for being useful, Dietrich made his way to the fence and touched it with his index finger. Then the fence sparked and Dietrich was projected few meters away with a yelp, falling apparently lifeless on his back.

Konrad let out a barrage of profanity and pushed everybody out of his way, until he reached Dietrich and kneeled besides his comrade. Frowning, Herzog went to kneel next to his unfortunate soldier too:

"Dietrich!" He called. The Doctor was already bent over the soldier, examining the darkened and burned skin of the finger the zombie had used to touch the fence:

"I believe the «volunteers» are a good idea..." The Doctor said. Konrad slapped Dietrich's face annoyedly:

"Dieter, come on!" The soldier called. The other zombies gathered around their fallen comrade, looking curiously at him:

"That was shocking!" Fritz exclaimed and everybody laughed.

Herzog rolled his eyes and raised his hand to touch Dietrich's head, but the soldier suddenly widened his grey eye and, slowly, touched the stick replacing his other eye:

"Is the stick fine?" He asked in a weak voice.

A moment of silence.

Then everybody burst into laughter, including Herzog. Only Konrad grimaced and slapped Dietrich's head:

"Stupid..." He grumbled and helped his dizzy comrade to stand up:

"But is the stick fine?" Dietrich asked again as Konrad simply pushed him back to his place in the zombie formation. The Nazi troops calmed down, and so did their leader, and Herzog concluded it was better to find «volunteers» to deal with the electric fence:

"Gentlemen, time to go home." He announced and began to run down the hill. His troops followed him.

* * *

**Weeeee, review?**


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's note:** to start with, thanks so much for the review! :D And now behold... a mighty big update! \m/ò3ó

Be aware of gore...

* * *

Finally Friday. Agnes could barely wait to go home and spend a decent weekend with Herzog, without the awkwardness of his attempt to kill her. The best part was that Erik hadn't showed up yet, nor texted, and the archaeologist hoped he had simply given up and walked away, in spite of the bouquet of roses.

At lunch time an officer from the Norwegian Army went to the museum and gave Agnes two boxes of interesting documents to be exposed. And the young woman was so entertained doing the registration of the new acquisitions that she didn't even notice that, after the officer left, another man came in and stopped at the counter, looking at her with a couple of newspapers in hand:

"Excuse me, miss." The man finally called, and Agnes looked away from her laptop to the man. He was kind of fat, with a light brown beard and light brown hair that was slowly disappearing from his head. He was dressed in black, with a leather jacket in spite of the pleasent weather of those final days of August, and his widened bright eyes made Agnes frown a little. The man looked from her to the newspapers, and everytime he looked back at her his eyes widened even more. "It's you!"

Agnes just stared, not really knowing what to do, until finally the man placed the newspapers on the counter and pointed the pictures in the first pages; both were pictures of Agnes, one of the night she had been rushed to the hospital after the incident with Stavarin's men, and the other was from the day the museum had been «robbed». The young woman frowned a little more:

"Uh... I guess so." She said:

"You saw them!" The man smiled and his eyes filled with happy tears. "You saw them! You can tell they are real! And then I'll have my job back!"

Agnes finally understood; she remembered the policemen who had found her telling some of their colleagues had seen zombies. She had said she had seen _Soviet_ zombies, yes, but apparently nobody paid her much attention. And it had been _Soviets_, not _Nazis_. But there was a chance that this man could have seen both factions. The young woman faked a smile:

"Who did I see...?" She asked politely. The man was laughing:

"The zombies, of course! There were Nazis, and Soviets, and even normal people among them! I told everybody, but they all thought I was mad, or just stressed, and they decided I needed a job calmer than the police! Now they will accept me back!" The man calmed down a little. "Major Stubbe, miss. Or ex-Major soon to be Major again!"

Agnes froze, but managed to keep smiling. Now, that was a dangerous situation; she could either accept to help that man to get his job back, confirm the (still) existence of Herzog and his men and hope they would manage to hide or kill everybody... or she could politely ignore that man and keep Herzog and his men safe. A little voice inside her head told her that the ex-police Major wouldn't quit that easily, and a little voice inside her heart told her that the dead Nazi officer would be most glad in dealing with such an importunate man. The young woman sighed and shook her head:

"I'm sorry but... I have no idea of what you are talking about..."

He was still smiling:

"You have, miss. You were attacked by zombies; twice, I believe, and you were the only survivor. Only you can help me!"

"No, first I was attacked by creeps in a mask... that's what they looked like, because zombies don't exist, and that's what I was told at the hospital... and second I was attacked by terrorists who stole a lot of weapons."

"No, they lied to you! I saw the bodies, they were so many that we had to burry them because the freezer was already full with the bodies from the first massacre here, at this museum!" The smile was gone from the man's face. "The seagulls know I speak the truth!"

"I'm sorry... but zombies don't exist... psychos do, though... and I don't speak... seagull-ish..." Agnes looked at her laptop again, hoping that the annoying man would quit. But he went on an endless ramble about how he was going to build a device to translate the language of seagulls to Norwegian, and that zombies existed and he had seen them and they even had a tank, because the police cars hadn't been destroyed in an accident caused by bad driving, as his ex-colleagues said, but because a tank, a German tank, had «ironed» them:

"Please... you must help me!" The man begged finally. Agnes lost her patience and pointed the exit:

"Sir, I was not attacked by zombies, but by psychos! Please leave my workplace before I call the police!"

"Our suspect, Martin, didn't suicide; he was killed by the zombies! And it was probably the zombies who killed his friends too! Help me to stop the zombies and save mankind!"

"That's it, I'm calling the police." And Agnes picked up the phone. Letting out a barrage of profanity, the man left.

* * *

When Agnes was driving home, she noticed a motorbike was following her. It was the fat ex-policeman, and he was everything but stealthy. The young woman sighed sadly; what a start to her nice weekend with Herzog...

Stubbe became more careful when Agnes changed from the asphalt road to the dirt road, but he still wasn't careful enough. Agnes stopped her jeep and ran to the trees, expecting to lure the annoying man close enough to knock him unconscious and then take him to Herzog. That man was a threat, and even though Agnes didn't really want to have his blood on her hands (there was already too much of it...) ... there were more important things at stake.

Like a certain dead Nazi officer.

So she hid and waited, and watched as the very careless stalker stopped his motorbike near her jeep and started to inspect it. Agnes pulled the sleeve of her denin jacket to cover her hand, grabbed a rock and made her way to the ex-policeman, trying her best not to make a sound. And or she was very talented for those Commando-like things, or Stubbe had had a very poor training; Agnes knocked him out easily and, pulling her other sleeve to cover her other hand, she grabbed the man's ankles and dragged him.

It took her a while and it was already dark when she finally reached her place. Herzog was already waiting for her, and he frowned when he saw her coming on foot... and dragging a man:

"We might have a problem..." The young woman explained as the Standartenführer trotted towards her. She let go the man's ankles and straightened her back, grimacing. "This guy showed up at the museum, bothering me to tell everybody you and your guys exist."

"The fact that he bothered you is enough for me to kill him." Herzog grumbled and loomed ominously over the unconscious body. Then he looked at Agnes and arched an hairless eyebrow. "You knocked him out, mein Schatz?"

Agnes blushed and smiled; it had been a while since he had called her «his treasure». She nodded. With a grin, Herzog held the man by the collar of his jacket:

"Well, maybe he will be glad by meeting my soldiers." Herzog commented. "I'm just going to leave this most uneducated gentleman in the cave, I won't take long."

"I have to go get my jeep. And you, send someone to destroy the guy's motorbike or something like that... I can't have that thing pointing to my place." Agnes replied switching on the flashlight she always carried around, and walked all the way back to where she had left her jeep.

When she got there, two Wehrmacht soldiers came running from the woods and began to push the motorbike back to the asphalt road; Herzog had probably ran all the way up the mountain; not needing to breath and not having a beating heart seemed pretty useful. One of them stayed behind:

"Hey Frau Herzog, do you have matches?" He asked. Agnes blushed and frowned:

"My name is Agnes!"

"And mine is Bergmann, Alexander. Do you have matches?"

"No..."

"Nevermind, we'll find a way to crush that shit..." The soldier shrugged and went to help his comrade. Agnes got in her jeep and drove home.

She had just opened the front door when Herzog came from behind and embraced her:

"Bergen is keeping an eye on our... guest." The Standartenführer chuckled. Agnes smiled and they got in her house:

"Why didn't you leave Sascha in charge?" She asked, and Herzog's chuckle became a booming laugh:

"Because keeping an eye on someone who's knocked out is boring, Agnes! I'd never give such a cruel task to that poor bastard!"

They went back to their usual routine of Herzog taking a shower to get rid off that stench of death, dressing sweatpants and the most ridiculous t-shirt Agnes could find and finally join the young woman in the kitchen and help her out with dinner. They both had to admit they had missed that and Agnes concluded that her house without that big dead man was just wrong. While having dinner, she told him a few more details about the donation of the box, that would be in January, to celebrate the rebellion of the people of Øksfjord:

"It will be a blast..." Herzog chuckled amusedly, and Agnes rolled her eyes:

"You're spending too much time with Sascha." She accused. Herzog offered her a playful grin, just like the one he had when he had decided to bite her fingers:

"Are you jealous, Kuschelbär*?" He asked, the grin never leaving his face; he had spent his amount of time thinking about their weekend together, too. Sascha, of course, had been willing to help, so willing Herzog eventually «accidentally» pushed him down a hill, and «accidentally» Sascha ended up finding Fritz's post. This time Herzog was decided to give Agnes all the needed compliments. Damn it, Sascha would be proud of his progress!

Agnes blushed with incredible speed and began to laugh, nervously:

"Of course not... uh... what's the term... Süßer*..." She replied in a mumble. Herzog's time to blush, yet he kept the grin on his face, and it even grew wider.

There. That had to be a proper start. When they went to sleep Agnes tried to start a pillow fight, but just like her other attempt this little conflict was easily won by Herzog, who simply disarmed her and raised the soft and fluffy weapon in the air, out of her reach:

"Act your age, Agnes." He said, amused, as he laid down and wrapped an arm around her waist. She laughed, finally retrieved her pillow and made herself comfortable, her back facing his chest:

"Good humor suits you, you know?"

"You should buy a bedside lamp." Herzog replied, politely ignoring her statement and switching off the flashlight. He threw it to some lonely corner of the room. "Gute Nacht, mein Schatz." (Good night, my darling.)

"Gute Nacht, Schatzi.*" Agnes mumbled and closed her eyes. Herzog just stared at her for a moment, with a silly smile on his mutilated mouth. He then sighed and closed his eyes, feeling warm in spite of his permanently dead cold body. Herzog actually fell alseep, undisturbed, no thoughts on the annoying peasant he still had to kill, no thoughts on the big offensives to avenge his men, no thoughts on impossible 'ifs' about Erika.

When he woke up it was still dark, and he spent a few hours running his fingers through Agnes' dark-copper hair and thinking on a pleasent way to wake her up, while witnessing how slowly the first sunbeams crawled their way into the room, through the small cracks in the closed blinds. The Standartenführer was already smiling, who could smile at such an early hour?, and decided that he should annoy her a bit, first.

So he poked her waist mercilessly, where he knew she was more ticklish. Agnes stirred against his chest and moved away, mumbling something under her breath. Then, slowly, she turned around to face him, carrying an expression both sleepy and utterly unamused:

"You better have a good excuse for that, Hein..." She grumbled and punched his chest. Not that it had a practical effect on him. With his smile growing even bigger, Herzog pulled her close and cradled her against his chest:

"Soll ich dich einem Sommertag vergleichen? Er ist wie du so lieblich nicht und lind." (Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.) He purred. Purred-growled. Agnes blinked her eyes, slowly, and Herzog's smile died slowly. "You've never read Shakespear...?"

"Poetry is boring." She replied and closed her eyes again, making herself comfortable. "But you make it sound cute."

"Cute, that's all?" He asked, both incredulous and indignant. Agnes giggled, opening one eye. "Do you know how long it took me to pick up that one?"

"Hein, let me sleep for more 5 minutes... and then I'll be able to show my gratitude for such early morning romanticism." And she closed her eye again.

Herzog rose both eyebrows and went quiet, expectantly. Little later Agnes yawned and opened her eyes again, smiling, and wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling his nose. Eagerly, Herzog's hands grabbed her hips.

And then someone rang "The Ride of the Valkyries" on the doorbell.

Agnes' smile died. Herzog's smile died. They both grimaced:

"Sascha..." The Standartenführer snarled angrily and got up. Agnes decided to go too, because surelly two people yelling at that annoying zombie would be more effective than just one. Herzog, with big angry strides, and Agnes, with small and trotting strides, made their way to the front door. Sascha was still ringing, or making music, or simply annoying everyone. Herzog unlocked the door and opened it, mouth wide open ready to yell at his most importunate Ordonnanz.

Sascha hurried to explain himself, covering Herzog's mouth with a hand:

"Yeah, you're right to be angry, I'm really sorry, you two probably hate me right now... but we have a problem." He explained. Herzog and Agnes frowned. "The prisoner... Bergen let him escape..." Herzog's bright blue eyes widened so much they seemed about to pop out. Agnes grew paler. "The good thing is... there was a freaking huge blizzard the whole night, the guy's lost in the mountains, I already sent everybody to look for him... I just thought you should know about this..."

* * *

"Please don't hate me..." Sascha begged in a whisper, hurrying to trot after Herzog when he stormed out of the house, dressed in his uniform. Agnes followed them, dressed in her snow clothes. Both Herzog and Agnes gave Sascha a threatening look.

Nobody noticed the police car coming round the corner, but Erik noticed them. He was on duty that morning, and had found a crashed motorbike on the roadside. He knew Agnes had a jeep, but showing up to ask her if she had heard or seen anything had seemed like a pretty good excuse to face her and finally ask her if she had liked the flowers.

But now, much for his surprise, Agnes was leaving her house in a hurry, with two men... dressed as Nazis? He immediately stopped the police car and watched as they disappeared in the woods that surrounded the house. With a frown, Erik got out of the car and followed them, as silently as possible.

* * *

"Please don't ignore me..." Sascha cried sadly, practically glued to Herzog. They were climbing the mountain, and apparently the dead SS officer had forgotten that Agnes was alive, and had an injured knee, and apparently he didn't notice she was having a hard time to keep up with him and Sascha:

"Later you will wish I had ignored you..." Herzog hissed angrily. Sascha just whimpered and decided to put some distance between him and Herzog. He then noticed Agnes, and thought that, if he managed to convince her he was really sorry about that, maybe she would convince Herzog:

"Acney, my adorable midget!" He greeted with a smile and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and nearly made her lose her ballance. "Please don't hate me!"

"Too late, I already do..." She grumbled. Sascha's smile died:

"I'm sorry, really!"

"We should split." Herzog said and stopped, waiting for them a few meters ahead:

"Aw come on! You can't ignore me like _that_!" Sascha protested. Herzog pretended he wasn't even there and handed Agnes his Mauser pistol:

"I believe you know how to fire a pistol." The Standartenführer said. The young woman nodded. "It's loaded, but take some extra ammo with you." He said, slipped his hand into an inside pocket of his trench coat and then handed Agnes two small boxes of cartridges. Agnes shoved them into the side pockets of her trousers. "You go that way, scream if you need help."

"Right." She said and headed east. Herzog kept climbing the moutain, heading north.

Sascha looked at them, confused, and opted for following Herzog:

"I asked you once to let me fire your pistol, but you didn't let me!" He complained, offended. "Come on, Herzog! I've been telling you all this time to stay with Agnes, you know I'd never interrupt you for no reason!"

Herzog let out a hissing sigh... but Sascha was right. He stopped and allowed the younger soldier to come closer, and Sascha had the same beaten up puppy expression he had when Herzog had found out about him and Fritz and they had talked about it:

"I'm going to kill Bergen for this!" Herzog grunted, widening his eyes. Sascha smiled innocently; seemed he had (sadly) interrupted something important.

* * *

Agnes climbed a small hill and looked around, trying to see the fat ex-policeman; he couldn't be that hard to find, he was dressed in black! Seeing nothing, she went down and proceeded her quest, looking everywhere. Some time later she crossed paths with Fritz, who was looking for Sascha, because he had noticed a man climbing the moutain not so long ago, and didn't know if he should kill him or not, because the man wasn't heading towards the cave:

"I have no idea where that asshole might be, we split a while ago." Agnes replied dryly. Fritz rose a blonde eyebrow, curious, and smiled widely when Agnes blushed. "It's not your business!"

"Oh, poor little Acne!" Fritz laughed. "Sascha was terrified of going down there... he didn't want to interrupt you and Herzog..."

Agnes blushed even more and the brown-eyed zombie began to laugh hysterically. Cursing, Agnes turned her back at him and proceeded the quest.

And, some time later, she finally found Stubbe, half-buried in snow. The archaeologist had to admit she was impressed; the zombie soldiers hadn't killed him yet and he hadn't died... yet... of hypothermia. She knew Herzog wouldn't give him any other minute of life, and deep inside she felt sorry for the poor man and felt bad, because that was all her fault... but the SS leader and his soliders meant a lot to her.

So Agnes stopped at a short distance from the nearly-frozen man and aimed Herzog's pistol at him:

"I'm sorry sir... but we have to go back to that cave." She said. Not that she expected the man to be able to move. He looked at her, shuddering with cold; his face was frostbitten and there were little snowlfakes on his eyebrows and eyelashes:

"Th-th-they e-e-e-e-exis-t-t...!" He whispered in a weak voice, barely audible, and smiled a little as the sun warmed his gelid face. "I-I kne-knew it!"

"Sadly, you knew..." Agnes sighed and shook her head. "I need to call someone to drag you up there, isn't it...?"

The man just laughed, weakly:

"You a-are with th-the-them!"

Agnes opened her mouth to call for someone, aiming carefully at the man's head just to hopefully keep him from doing anything stupid. She _really_ didn't want to have anything to do with that's man's death... or at least, didn't want anything else besides what she had already:

"Agnes?" Someone called from behind. Someone sadly surprised, in pure disbelief. Someone who didn't growl. Agnes' voice died in her throat and, slowly, always aiming at the ex-policeman, the young woman moved to the left, so that she could look at both Stubbe and...

...Erik, who was walking towards her clumsily, shivering with cold:

"Agnes, what are you doing?" He asked, utterly disappointed. Agnes opened her mouth to answer, and decided that it would be more effective to aim at Erik than at the nearly frozen ex-police Major:

"She's wi-with the zo-zo-zombies!" Stubbe warned, a little louder. "She-she's one o-of the-them, the Nazi ter-terrorists!"

_Shitshitshitshitshit!_, Agnes thought and, begining to panick, lowered the pistol and shot the ex-policeman on the arm. Hopefully, his screams and the sound of the Mauser would attract one of Herzog's men... if not Herzog himself:

"My God, AGNES!" Erik shrieked, horrified. She hurried to aim at him again. "Agnes... please, put the gun down, let's talk..." He smiled. "I'm sure that poor man is just delirious, with all this cold... if you cooperate, nothing will happen to you, I promise!"

The young woman felt her eyes sting with tears; anger, frustration, fear... Damn it, why had Erik insisted so much to meet her? And damn it, why had she allowed? She should have known that people, living people at least, had never done her any good. Now just look at this mess!

Erik concluded Agnes wouldn't put the pistol down. With a sad sigh, he slowly removed his own pistol from the holster and aimed at her; usually the Norwegian police didn't walk around with weapons, but since the massacre at the museum the police had to have weapons with them:

"Put the gun down, Agnes... let's talk." He tried once more.

Stubbe, who was curled over his injured arm screaming and crying, suddenly let out a scream louder than his whimpers and widened his eyes, pointing at a dark, ominous figure walking towards them with large, angry strides.

Herzog.

And he was not amused.

Erik grew paler and turned around to aim at the Nazi zombie, eyes wide with fear. His hands began to shake:

"MyGodmyGodmyGodmyGod...!" He muttered. "Agnes, run! I'll take care of... that!"

But Agnes just stood there, and she finally lowered the Mauser. Erik, looking from her to the approaching zombie, frowned and stepped back a little:

"Agnes, run!" He insisted:

"No, it's you who should run..." The young woman replied sadly. Not that it would work...

Herzog was getting closer. Erik, in a panick, prepared to pull the trigger. With a yelp, Agnes bumped into him and they both fell.

And that was when Herzog roared and ran, and in 3 strides he was looming over the two struggling young people. Like Erik weighted nothing, Herzog grabbed him by the collar and seized him. The young policeman grew even more paler and he looked from Herzog to Agnes, terrified. He let go his pistol. The Standartenführer grinned victoriously; at last, the peasant that had given him so much trouble! Herzog let out a low, gutural chuckle, imagining how much fun he would have torturing that little cheeky creature that had dared to approach his Agnes.

Biting her lower lip nervously, Agnes handed the pistol to its owner. Herzog looked at the wounded ex-policeman, curled on the snow:

"I see we killed two birds with one stone, mein Schatz!" He exclaimed, delighted. The wounded man was staring at Herzog with his eyes wide in sheer horror.

More zombies appeared, circling them slowly. Erik was so terrified he was mute. The wounded policeman was crying lowly. Agnes looked at Erik for brief moments, but she couldn't bear the sight for long and looked down again. Her vision began to blur.

Tjaden and Wilhelm grabbed Stubbe by the shoulders and made him stand up:

"Untermensch." One of the zombies hissed with a sly smile. Herzog trusted his «special guest» to Sascha, who had just arrived:

"Go ahead. Sascha, you are in charge this time. Tell Bergen I might not kill him... today." The Standartenführer told his soldiers. They saluted and walked away with the terrified policemen. Erik looked from Herzog to Agnes, still not believing what had just happened.

Herzog approached Agnes, irradiating happiness. He placed two fingers under her chin and lifted her face to look at her... and his smile died, slowly.

Agnes was crying. Just like she had cried when he had been about to kill her. He frowned:

"Why are you crying?" Herzog asked, concerned. But Agnes just sobbed and looked away, feeling horrible; she knew it would happen, that Herzog would find a way to lay his hands on Erik and kill him... but the young woman had at least hoped she would never come to know it had really happened. And the look on the young man's face... poor Erik, Agnes cursed herself for having letting him that close.

Herzog's frown grew bigger and he placed a hand on Agnes' shoulder:

"Agnes?" He called again. Why was she crying? He hated to see her cry. Maybe she was just scared... yes, sounded like a reasonable motive, women are sensitive and delicate creatures, she was obviously upset for having shot the fat man. With a sigh, Herzog pulled her to a comforting embrace. "Everything is fine, mein Schatz. Thanks to you, my soldiers are safe... and I can finally eliminate the peasant who -" The Standartenführer froze, suddenly realising something.

The peasant...

Agnes...

He had left them alone for a week. He knew Agnes had been with him every single day. She had obviously grown fond of him, even though she had assured him they hadn't done anything wrong. But the mere concept of someone else with his Agnes was wrong. Herzog held Agnes' wet face between his thumb and index finger and forced her to look up at him.

He wasn't happy anymore:

"Are you crying because of that peasant?" Herzog asked, narrowing his blue eyes. Agnes just stared back at him with the saddest face in the world, and she shut her eyes closed when he put too much strenght on holding her face. "Are you, Agnes?" He barked angrily, and shook her head. "Go home, mein Schatz. I'm going to finish that unfortunate bastard _right now_, he has given me too much trouble!" The young woman opened her teary eyes again, to find Herzog's angry face just scarce millimeters away from hers. "You are _mine_, and now hopefully you learned you might get burned when you play with fire."

He let go of her face, turned around and left, walking with large and quick strides; he didn't want to hear her crying and he wanted to finish that peasant as soon as possible for giving him troubles.

Agnes watched him leave, feeling her tears freeze on her face. Her face hurt where Herzog's fingers had dug into the flesh and she knew it would leave bruises.

All for a weekend that had promised to be perfect...

* * *

When Herzog reached the cave, his soldiers had already tied their two victims with guts. Stubbe was crying miserably, knowing perfectly that this time he wouldn't manage to escape. Erik was just too shocked to do anything else besides staring.

Rottenführer Bergen gave a brave step forwards when Herzog approached his gathered men and the prisioners:

"Herr Standartenführer, I know no words can apologize for my mistake, and I will gladly-" He started, even though Michael and Joachim tried to stop him:

"Halt den Mund." (Shut up.) Herzog growled and unsheathed his SS dagger, stopping right in front of Erik. The young policeman gulped and looked at the dead man's cold blue eyes:

"Monster, what did you do to Agnes?" He asked in a frightened whisper. With a roar, Herzog punched him and sent him flying a few meters behind. The zombie soldiers moved away and the policeman fell on the snow, and they laughed.

Herzog held his SS dagger with an iron grip. His men were too joyful to notice their officer emanated an aura of death and wrath stronger and more vicious than the usual. Sascha noticed, though, and he frowned, and was the only one who didn't cheer when Herzog made his way towards Erik and made him stand up. Stubbe was now too dreadful to cry or scream in pain.

That young policeman, that peasant, had caused Herzog too much trouble. He had spent too much time with Agnes. He had touched her and seen her in ways no one else was allowed to. Goddamit, he had said her name! And now, thanks to him, the perfect weekend was ruined. Agnes was hurt, Herzog knew it, and he knew she wouldn't be hurt if that miserable Norwegian pig hadn't appeared in her life.

Now it was time to take him off her life, once and for all, so that Herzog wouldn't hurt Agnes again. He grinned:

"Sascha!" He called, and the blonde-haired zombie hurried to make his way to Herzog's side. "Make him stand still, if he falls."

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer." Sascha replied and stood next to Erik.

Then, to everybody's surprise, Herzog cut the guts that were tying the young policeman, and he grabbed a handful of Erik's blonde hair. Herzog was two heads taller than the young policeman, and he started to play with his dagger, throwing it in the air and catching it by the blade, between his index and middle fingers:

"Gentleman, time for a Literature lesson!" He announced. His troops cheered and the Einsatzgruppe soldiers grinned wickedly; lessons were always fun with Herzog. "The «blood eagle» is a famous torture and execution method described in late skaldic poetry. The skalds were the Viking bards. In Nordic literature, the «blood eagle» can be found in the "Orkneyinga Saga" and in the "Tale of Ragnar's Sons"." Herzog stopped playing with the dagger and ripped the upper part of Erik's uniform, who simply stood there, fear stopping him from moving. Fear and resignation, he knew he would die. "Now, gentlemen, this is a very simple method." He forced Erik to turn around, exposing his back to the audience of Nazi zombies. Sascha moved to face the victim. With a cruel grin, Herzog dug his dagger deep in Erik's back, over the spine, and made a clean cut downwards. The young policeman screamed in pain and his knees buckled, but Herzog's hand holding his hair and Sascha's hands on his shoulders stopped him from falling. Then, Herzog sheathed his dagger and hooked two fingers in the wound, in the middle of Erik's back. The young man screamed again and wriggled in pain. "First, we cut the ribs by the spine." Herzog instructed his men, and digging deeper in the wound he finally felt a rib. He could use his dagger, but that would be faster...

And he wanted Erik to _die of pain_. He hooked his fingers on the rib and pulled it, breaking it near the spine and making it tear off flesh and skin. The rib stood out like a spike, and the zombie soldiers clapped their hands enthusiastically. Erik let out an inhuman cry of pain.

Herzog repeated the process until Erik's ribs were sticking out of his back, resembling wings. At the second rib, the young man had fallen unconscious, and only stood on his feet because Herzog and Sascha were holding him:

"Now gentlemen, we pull the lungs out." Herzog explained and pulled one lung out, through the horrible wound in Erik's back. That woke him up and he screamed and cried again, and his body was shaken by violent convulsions. Herzog pulled the other lung out and Erik let out an ear-piercing shriek. "Lastly, the lungs should be sprinkled with salt... but sadly we have no salt..." Herzog concluded, and let go of Erik's hair. His men let out a disappointed «Awwwww...»

The young policeman fell on his knees, even though Sascha tried to hold him still. The Ordonnanz shook his head; he had been the only one who hadn't cheered, because he knew something was wrong with Herzog, and that after all this fun the Nazi officer would be completely wrecked:

"He's dead." Sascha announced.

The Nazi zombies then decided to apply their recently acquired knowledge on Stubbe, who was frozen with fear and horror, and didn't move a muscle when many cold and violent hands reached out for him.

Herzog, with his gloves and sleeves drenched in blood, headed into the cave. Sascha let out a hissing curse and, as everybody was having fun with their other victim, the Ordonnanz dug a small grave in the snow, kicked Erik's body into it and then covered it with snow again. Then he hurried to join Herzog.

The Standartenführer was standing in the middle of his little chamber, looking at the wooden box over the stalagmite. The chamber was pitch black, but Sascha knew exactly where Herzog was, and he stopped next to his officer:

"What happened?" He asked:

"«What happened?», what?" Herzog replied dryly. Sascha crossed his arms:

"With you and Agnes. Where is she? Why aren't you with her? Why aren't you going to her place?"

"I'm not in the mood, Sascha… get out of here before I do something to later regret it deeply…" The Standartenführer growled and turned his back at the younger soldier. Sascha narrowed his blue eyes and came to stand in front of Herzog again:

"You argued, didn't you? Because of the Norwegian Untermensch, wasn't it? That's why you came up here so quickly."

"Sascha… you are stepping the line…"

"You know Agnes will hate you for killing that guy, don't you? That's why you finished the bastard today, you're hoping she will forget you did this!"

"Ritter!" Herzog hissed. The moment Sascha heard his surname, he should have ran out of Herzog's little chamber, then out of the cave, then down the mountain, then across the woods… and probably he would only be safe once he reached the seaside. But Sascha ignored the warning tone in Herzog's voice:

"I thought I had told you not to kill him now, because that would only drive Agnes away from you! And look, I'm sorry I interrupted you two this morning, but I was just being responsible, you shouldn't have acted like it was the end of the world! Look at you now, back to stage one!" Sascha facepalmed. "Was all this hurry because of the flowers? You didn't need to, Agnes was already pissed off becau-" The back of Herzog's gloved, blood-drenched hand collided with Sascha's face. The younger soldier's jaw snapped painfully and he stumbled backwards, until he bumped on the stone wall of the cave and fell on his knees, eyes wide in confusion. Then Sascha noticed his mouth was open and his lower jaw was in an awkward angle. He groped his face, howling in pain and disbelief; it probably didn't hurt, maybe it was just his brain making him believe he was in pain… but Sascha felt pain, both physical and emotional. He looked up at Herzog, angrily, who had just kneeled in front of him:

"FLOWERS? WHAT FLOWERS?" The Standartenführer growled, wrath deforming his already deformed voice. But Sascha just growled too and scrambled to his feet, and managed to run away.

Herzog stood up again and began to walk in circles, like a wounded angry beast:

"I'LL REVIVE THAT BASTARD AND KILL HIM AGAIN! AND REVIVE HIM! AND KILL HIM! AND REVIVE HIM AND KILL HIM AND-" He snarled, throwing his fists in the air and simply growling and howling, too wrathful to speak.

Herzog eventually fell on his knees, exhausted, panting like he had ran for miles… and actually needed to breath and calm his heart down.

But his heart was quiet, frozen in the same place where it had beaten for the last time, many years ago. And his lungs were not begging for oxygen, they hadn't done that since Herzog had given his last real breath, also many years ago. And he wasn't sweating, he was still dead cold, because that's what he was; dead.

Yet he felt exhausted, and dizzy, and sick, and empty. All he wanted to do was curling in a ball and cry his eyes out.

Killing the Norwegian peasant hadn't been that satisficing. Well, it had been… but now that he looked at it… it didn't worth it. Not as he had thought it would:

"Agnes…" He shrieked in a weak voice and covered his face with his blood-drenched hands.

And their weekend, that had started so perfectly!

Herzog stood up, suddenly reminded that he had done another horrible thing; he had hit Sascha. He arranged the officer cap on his head and left his little chamber.

Outside it was already getting dark. Had he really spent that much time in his little dark lair? The traits of blood were gone from the snow, his troops had done a brilliant job. In fact, some of them were already returning, apparently unaware of what had happened to their officer. The Doctor was the one who approached Herzog first, and the Standartenführer cleared his throat:

"Have you seen Sascha?" He asked. But the Doctor just shook his head, then smiled:

"It was a most interesting Literature lesson!" He complimented. Herzog forced a smile and bowed his head.

More of his men came by, all cheering the bloodshed from hours ago, until finally Herzog saw Fritz, and in two large strides he was towering over the small zombie. Fritz blinked his brown eyes quickly, visibly scared, and Herzog knew he was aware of what had happened. Herzog bit his lower lip:

"I might have been a little… rude… to Sascha." He explained. "I presume you know where he is."

"He asked me not to tell, Herr Standartenführer." Fritz replied in a whisper:

"Fritz Kohl, tell me where Sascha is…" Herzog grumbled. But Fritz said nothing, just cast him a scared stare. Herzog sighed sadly and walked away, shaking his head; he would have to find Sascha…

Which he eventually did, sometime later, when the sunlight was almost finally gone. Sascha was sitting with his back against a pine, his knees pulled to his chest. His helmet was resting next to him, and his messy blonde hair was covered with snow that had fallen from the tree. With a sigh, Herzog bypassed him and sat cross-legged in front of him. And then widened his eyes:

"What happened to your jaw?" He asked worriedly. Sascha's jaw was dislocated, and it looked really weird with the blood coming from his mouth. With a tired sigh, Herzog shook his head. "I'm sorry, Sascha… I really am…"

Sascha growled.

"Here, let me fix that…" Herzog mumbled sadly and kneeled. Reluctantly, Sascha allowed him to push his lower jaw back to place. He then opened and closed his mouth, making sure everything was fine. "Why didn't you ask the Doctor…?"

"Nobody needs to know how grumpy you get, sometimes…" Sascha mumbled, crossed his arms over his knees and rested his chin on them. "Are you calmer, now?"

"I messed up again, didn't I?" Herzog asked sadly, and moved to sit beside Sascha. They leaned against the pine for a while, in silence, their sides touching because the tree wasn't big enough for two zombies, especially when one of them was bulky. Sascha finally turned his head to look at Herzog:

"You did. With Agnes, I already cooled down…"

"I didn't mean to hurt you…"

"Just don't do it again, or I'll eventually punch you in return."

They chuckled, sadly, because both of them knew that Sascha, in all his glorious sass and zero respect for military discipline and superior ranks… would never, ever have the guts to do such to Herzog. Raise his voice? No problem, they were friends, friends sometimes yell at each other. Now hit Herzog? Hell no, Sascha respected him too much:

"Poor Fritz, he was really scared…" The blonde-haired zombie told. "He saw me running and followed me, he wanted to put my jaw back in place so that I could rant properly, but he was afraid of doing worse… For a moment, I thought I would never manage to kiss him again, it was terrifying!"

Herzog just howled lowly, utterly ashamed for having done that to Sascha, who was now acting like it hadn't been much of a big deal. The Standartenführer grimaced, remembering how he had held Agnes' face… she would probably be bruised…

He sighed sadly:

"Sascha?" He called shyly:

"Ja?"

"I messed up."

"Bet you did, Herzog…"

"I… I just had to destroy him… I couldn't…. I couldn't let him…"

"Now you just have to explain that to Agnes."

"I… She probably doesn't want to see me right now… Maybe… maybe I should wait…"

"The bravest of all in the battlefield, the biggest coward of all in love… Herzog, you are impressive!"

"She was crying! For him!" Herzog told angrily and pulled the officer cap from his head. He ran a hand on his shaved scalp, nervously. "I… I was afraid."

"She didn't want his flowers, so I bet she wasn't crying for him…" Sascha told. "Agnes was probably terrified, I wonder if she ever shot anything else besides targets… I bet she hadn't…"

"She didn't want his flowers…" Herzog repeated, like it was something extremely comforting. It was, and it also made him feel extremely guilty. "I… shouldn't have killed that peasant now... like that... He wasn't a threat."

"Now it's done, and it can't be undone. Well… it can partially be undone… but… look on the bright side, now we have two «volunteers»."

"It started out so perfectly, verdamnt!" Herzog sobbed and hid face on his hands. Sascha bit his bloody lower lip:

"I shouldn't have told you… I'm sorry. If I hadn't, you'd be all happy with her… I just thought… I should tell you, I was afraid we wouldn't manage to capture that fat pig, because if he had managed to sneak away from Bergen… and I was afraid he could find help, and then we would be screwed…"

"I should have left you in charge, as boring as it was!"

"I should have complained because you didn't leave me in charge."

They stared at each other, sad smiles growing on their lips:

"Shit, we both messed up again!" Sascha concluded. However, Herzog shook his head, slowly:

"I messed up. Again."

They sighed and looked ahead. Soldier and commander spent a while in silence. It was now completely dark, and apparently there was another storm coming. Herzog hadn't noticed the weather was that bad, last night. Such an end of Summer could only foretell a rigorous Winter:

"I found you, Fritz didn't say a word…" Herzog assured. Sascha laughed briefly:

"I know he didn't."

"You two are the luckiest bastards ever…" The Standartenführer grumbled. Sascha smiled sadly and looked at Herzog, who looked at him too:

"In a way, we are… but are we really?" Sascha's smile died. "I promised him we'd buy a house in the countryside, for the two of us; no one would suspect of two war veterans living together. Look at us, now!"

"At least you have each other."

"Not as much as I wanted to…"

They went silent again. With a sigh, Sascha decided to wipe the bloodstains from Herzog's face.

* * *

* Kuschelbär translates literally as «cuddle/huggy bear», and it sounds weird in English, so I opted not to translate it in the text; Süßer translates as «sweetie», but it also sounds weird in English, so I didn't translate it in the text too; Schatzi is just a diminutive of Schatz. XD There are things that only sound good in German.

**Weeeee, review?**


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's note:** thanks so much for the reviews! ;-;

Also, there are no Roman sites in Berlin... but I needed one there.

* * *

When Agnes reached the clearing where her house was she noticed the police car, hidden behind the trees on each side of the dirt road that leaded to her house. The young woman, who had stopped crying a few moments ago, began to cry again and, cursing, got in her house and changed her snow clothes to jeans and a hoodie, wrapped a scarf around the lower part of her face and put on gloves.

Then, with her vision blurred with tears, got in the car. Erik had left the key in the ignition. Praying no one would see her, she drove the car away, back to the asphalt road. Her plan was to try and drive close enough to a lake or a marsh and leave the car there, but some meters ahead she saw the crashed motorbike on the roadside, and she didn't think twice.

Agnes sped up and drove straight to the motorbike. The police car bumped on the obstacle and jolted violently. Something underneath the car got stuck somewhere on the motorbike and the car came to a sudden halt, strong enough to activate the hairbags and the alarm. Absolutely terrified, Agnes opened the door and fled, looking everywhere, but fortunately there were no houses around and the road was empty.

She ran and ran and ran, and only stopped when running straight into the door of her own house. The young woman stumbled backwards, lost her balance and fell, feeling her nose and mouth bleed. She jumped to her feet again, opened the door and got in.

Agnes had a shower and went straight to bed, too tired to keep crying or to even think about food. Trying to ignore Herzog's absence, she decided to spend some time surfing the Web, looking for random stuff or interesting Archaeology articles. And that was when she found something that caught her attention, and nearly made her forget about Herzog; it was a 4 months course in Berlin, from September to December, about a new Roman military site that had been found, and the course included both theorical lessons and field work, and it was rather cheap, since food and accommodation were provided by the organization. Reading that, the young woman smiled and bit her lower lip enthusiastically; field work! And Romans, there were no Roman artifacts and structures in Scandinavia, and Agnes' favourite historical period after the Iron Age and the World Wars was the Roman Empire.

But her smile died. There were two problems; her job and a dead Nazi zombie named Herzog. There was no way the director of the museum would give Agnes a 4 months break so that she could happily get in an airplane to Berlin and learn about the Romans. And Herzog would most likely shoot down the airplane, kill everybody and stop her from going anywhere he couldn't keep an eye on her. Sighing sadly, the young woman switched off her laptop and tried to sleep.

Her mind didn't let her, though; she could always try... The director of the museum was a good man, and Agnes could always find a job somewhere else... like a supermarket cashier (she snorted at the thought). And, like Herzog was always saying, they had a deal... a deal that she hated, and that probably he now hated too, but it was still a deal and, in spite of being a cruel Nazi officer, Herzog was a man of his word... and in the beginning he had been pretty insistent on how Agnes should live her life.

And right now, Agnes did want to do something different, something that would allow her to be on her own for a while. She would probably regret it later, like she had when she had decided to befriend Erik, and she would most likely conclude she should have stayed quiet and with Herzog...

* * *

When Agnes went to work her face was still bruised, with dark and big hematomas where Herzog's fingers had gripped her mercilessly, but she hid it with foundation. Herzog hadn't showed up at her door, neither did Sascha or Fritz. The good news was that, at least, no one had come around asking her if she had seen the missing (ex)Major Stubbe and the missing Erik. The missing men were on the newspapers, though, and the young woman forced herself to read the news just to be sure that Herzog and his men were safe; apparently they were, because all the newspapers said was that the vehicles had been found, and it hadn't been pretty, and the searching for the men was happening in the valley, in the riverside and in the fjords... far away from the mountains.

That day Agnes had a chance to talk to the director, who agreed in letting her go and let her keep her job if he didn't pay her for those 4 months. Agnes happily accepted the deal, not really believing how sometimes her luck was amazing, and other times it couldn't be worse.

The first thing the young woman did that night, when she got home, was enroll in the course. She got the confirmation few hours later.

Now she just had to find a nice way to tell Herzog...

Herzog, who didn't show up the rest of the week, neither in the next weekend. And Anges couldn't help but feel sad and abandoned, and hurt, and wondered if the dead Standartenführer thought she had cheated on him with Erik, which was ridiculous, because they still didn't have «something», so he couldn't be cheated, and if he did love her, so he would have to trust her word on how she hadn't done anything.

Talking about this with the lately very violent Nazi officer scared Agnes a little, she didn't want to get more bruises, or be shot, or stabbed, or buried alive in the snow, or whatever sadistic ideas that lived happily in Herzog's mind. But they had to talk, responsible adults talk about their problems, they don't pout like teenagers or throw a tantrum like children. Or they shouldn't...

Feeling like a very responsible adult, in spite of her young age, Agnes decided that writing a letter was the perfect solution; Herzog's «letter» had made her realise she was acting wrong, so maybe her letter would make him understand he was acting wrong too.

Agnes spent her whole Saturday writing a letter to Herzog, telling him about how hurt she was and about the 4 months course. Now she just needed someone to deliever the letter to him, because she still wasn't very sure about meeting him face to face. In fact, and the young woman grimaced thinking about this, maybe she would never be able to look at Herzog again and not remember about how he had (surelly) murdered Erik in cold-blood. And no Sascha's jokes about the cold-blood part.

Asking Sascha to deliever the letter was a bad idea, because the blonde-haired zombie would certainly open it and read it and pick on Agnes for the rest of their lives. Asking Fritz was also a bad idea, because he would surelly give it to Sascha, they both would read it and then they both would pick on the young archaeologist forever. Sneaking into the cave, leave the letter and then escape unnoticed was something not even a ninja with Spetsnaz training would manage...

Rottenführer Bergen sounded like the perfect zombie for the mission; he was polite and obviously had a thing for Agnes, so he would do whatever she asked. Content with that solution, Agnes went to sleep.

In the next morning, a cloudy Sunday morning, Agnes put on her snow clothes and began to climb the moutain. That was when she realised Herzog could find her, or Sascha, or Fritz, and that she had no idea where she could find Bergen, and calling him was a terrible idea because that would only attract Herzog. Agnes was about to give up when, few meters ahead, in an area clear of forestation, she saw a stick coming out of the snow.

Dietrich!

Smiling like a fool, Agnes ran towards the stick and stopped next to it, clapping her hands enthusiastically:

"Dietrich?" She called. The stick stirred. A zombie head emerged from the snow and looked up at her. Dietrich widened his eye, curiously:

"Agnes!" He shook his head to clear the snow from his helmet, then looked at her again. But this time his face adopted a sad expression. "What happened to your face?"

The young woman bit her lower lip and looked around. No one in sight. With a sigh, she began to shift her weight from one leg to the other:

"Last week... Herzog might have held my face with a little too much strenght. Anyway..." She removed the letter from a pocket of her jacket and handed it to the zombie. "... can you give this to him? It's important."

One of Dietrich's arms rose from under the snow and he took the letter. He looked at it for a moment, his expression blank, until he sighed and rose completely from the snow. Agnes frowned a little and took a step back; everytime she had been around Dietrich he had been kneeling, or she hadn't been close enough when he was standing, so the young woman had never realised how tall he was. Actually, he was exactly the same height as Herzog and Sascha, the taller zombies, so maybe she was just impressed because Sascha (and everyone else) treated him like a dumb child... and children are not this big. Standing, and this close, Agnes noticed how strange Dietrich looked; very tall, with large shoulders and a strong jaw, but the rest of his body was too slender for a soldier, and the rest of his face, hidden in the shadows the helmet cast over it, was too delicate. The young woman was able to see properly, finally, how he had died; he had been stabbed on his stomach and chest, right over one of his lungs, and by the quantity of blood on his uniform and the enormous size of the bloodstains, the young soldier had died slowly and painfully.

The zombie soldier kept the letter in a pocket of his jacket and smiled, sadly:

"Why did he do that to your face?" He asked. Agnes just blinked her eyes, slowly, and bit her lower lip, uneasy:

"I presume he killed a blonde-haired guy, last week...?"

"Ja."

"I knew the guy... Herzog didn't like that." Agnes explained briefly.

Dietrich nodded, slowly, and he did look ridiculous with the stick coming out of one of his eyes. He then smiled:

"Maybe we should sit." He suggested, and began to walk down the mountain, towards a small forested area. Confused, Agnes followed him. They found a dead tree half covered in snow and sat on the trunk, and Dietrich began to jiggle from side to side. "You're angry with him."

Agnes came to the brilliant conclusion it was a statement. She nodded, slowly, and noticed Dietrich was looking to a place only he could see, with that daydreaming face that was so characteristically his, and that didn't fit at all in a Nazi soldier. SS dead soldier. He unstrapped the leather chinstrap of his helmet and took it off, revealing his dark blonde hair, neatly combed to right and meticulously cut short on the sides of the head. Agnes wondered if it wasn't easier to just shave the sides of the head, like Fritz:

"Don't be mad at him." Dietrich frowned, sadly, and looked at the young woman. "He loves you. On his own way."

The young woman just stared at the, according to Sascha, permanently 5 years-old soldier. He was still jiggling from side to side:

"And if there is someone whose love is pure and innocent, that's Herzog. Because he doesn't know how to love, he never learned and he was never told. So, all he does is from his heart." Dietrich proceeded. Agnes widened her eyes in surprise; she expected Sascha to give her such a lecture... not Dietrich. The young soldier chuckled. "Sascha would tell you the same, but with a lot of swearing and bad jokes."

"I'm just... I mean... I'm..." Agnes stammered, and blushed. Apparently everybody had taken Dietrich for fool... something he wasn't. The zombie giggled:

"Surprised. I know. If you want to learn about Herzog, you should definitely ask Sascha. He does know him like no one else. But there was this thing he told me once... it got me thinking... and the things I know about him... I just put two and two together."

Again, Agnes just stared, speechless. Dietrich looked away from her, to that little place only he could see:

"Von Auttenberg, Dietrich; that's my name. I grew up as an only child in this really fancy medieval castle in the Hessen, I was homeschooled, I couldn't play with my father's wolfhounds because everybody was afraid they would bite me and I couldn't ride on horseback outside the castle's walls. I joined the SS because of my family's money and influence, and they all expected me to be a poster boy and spend the rest of my days behind a desk taking phone calls." Dietrich suddenly burst into laughter. "Too bad, Herzog picked me up to go with the Einszatgruppe to Moravia, in 1938. I was 18, and all I knew from the world was my castle and the barracks I had lived in for some months, in Berlin. I know he just picked me up because the seargent told him to, because my family was important... but he could have ignored me. And he didn't." Dietrich made a pause and looked at Agnes again. A sunbeam tore the clouds above them and made its way right towards the zombie's grey eye. With the sunlight, the iris turned into an eerie white. "My comrades surely enjoyed picking on me. Still do..." He chuckled. "I tried to befriend them, but they gave little importance to my awkward attempts. It was the first time I was with people of my age, you see?" Dietrich's smile died. "I almost gave up, because they didn't want to be my friends. And I was sitting alone in a corner, and Herzog came to talk to me. And he wasn't like my tutors, who always said I was flawlass and perfect; he said I was dumb, loud and couldn't even throw a grenade in a straight line, and that I was there because the sargent had suggested me. And guess what?" Dietrich laughed. "He was the first person, in my whole life, to be completely honest with me. Honest, not cynical."

He paused, always jiggling, and Agnes felt really sorry for not having known better such a cute zombie earlier:

"I did my best to improve and now I'm very good at throwing grenades, and even though they still pick on me, they're my friends. But I'm still loud and dumb, hence Sascha saying I'm forever 5 years-old. Anyway..." Dietrich smiled again. "We all knew Herzog wasn't married and didn't have kids, so I started to wonder how could he be such a father-figure without even being a father, without knowing how to do it. He always told us some of his stories of the Great War, and interesting stuff he had read in the books, he kept us sane and healthy in scenarios that drove many men crazy. I, Agnes, am proud to tell I killed hundreds of Untermenschen and, thanks to Herzog, I have no ghosts to torment me." He puffed his chest, proudly, and the young woman smiled, because he was really cute. "Sascha told us some time ago Herzog had been heartbroken, so that was why he had been so quiet, and that the loot was to send us to Ireland, to assure us a safe life. And I started to wonder again, how can he love so much if he actually never loved, was never told what to do?"

"You think a lot, don't you?" Agnes chuckled. Dietrich nodded:

"That's why I like the stick. He's a good friend, he listens to me. Konrad listens too, but he gets bored and tells me shut up, and if I don't he picks on me."

"Pick on him, too." Agnes suggested with a wink. Dietrich nodded again:

"Anyway... I concluded Herzog is the most genuine man I ever met. The way he protects and loves the ones he cares about... it might be twisted, but that's just him. No other officers did what he did, no one else did what he did to me." Dietrich's smile died. "I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you... he loves you, even a blind man can see it and Sascha says one day you're going to be Frau Herzog."

"When I lay my hands on Sascha..." Agnes hid her blushed face on her hands, utterly ashamed. The zombie soldier laughed:

"He's just an irritating little shit with a very well-hidden heart of gold." He said, and laughed harder when Agnes cast him a stupefied look. "Yes, one of the first things I did when I finally got rid off my annoying family was swearing out lout. I felt really good."

"I bet you did." The young woman chuckled and shook her head. Finally, Dietrich stopped jiggling, and his face became very serious. His strange eye-colour suddenly made him look threatening:

"Don't be mad at him, please."

Agnes sighed and looked down. Absently, she touched the bruises on her face, carefully, and kept looking at her mountain trainers:

"It's not that easy, Dieter... He has no reasons to do this. He has to understand I won't hurt him... and that hurting me won't keep me from doing that to him."

Dietrich hummed, thoughtfull, and tapped the stick with his burned index finger:

"My stick never hurted me. He's a good friend. I never hurted him, too."

"I have no doubts you're a good friend." Agnes offered him a warm smile, and Dietrich blushed:

"Konrad says I only fuck up his patience."

"Don't swear, it doesn't suit you..."

"Mutti (mommy) said that too, once." Dietrich concluded with an innocent giggle.

* * *

At nightfall, Dietrich made his way to the cave. Herzog was standing outside, counting his men, and the young soldier approached his colonel and handed him the letter:

"Fräulein Agnes asked me to give you this." He said and then made his way into the cave. Herzog looked at the letter, curiously. Sascha and Fritz had just arrived and the blue-eyed zombie patted his comrade on the shoulder before trotting towards Herzog:

"You got a love-letter, how cute!" Sascha exclaimed. Herzog gave him one of his ugliest frowns, but Sascha just giggled. "I wonder what adress she used, the king of the mountain hall?"

"«Hall of the Mountain King», my little uncultured bastard! Now get inside!"

Sascha trotted away, laughing, and Herzog caught himself smiling a little, both of Sascha's «Sascha-esk» behaviour and because of that letter.

Because... if Agnes had wrote a letter... she couldn't be that mad, right?

Anxious, he opened it and began to read. And his little smile died, and when he finished reading he sighed, sadly, and made his way to his little chamber, walking with his head low. And that was how he bumped into his Ordonnanz, who was waiting for him.

Herzog told Sascha about the letter, but truth to be told he didn't feel... miserable. Sad, yes, but he had realised (this time on time) that it wasn't the end of the world. So he decided to leave Agnes alone for the rest of the month, just mere 5 days, and then go to her place and wish her a good time and remind her not to strain her knee.

And when she came back, he would be done with the big offensives, and that would give him enough time to sort things out with her, and then worry about his men again.

So, in the next morning, Herzog assembled his troops in the bigger hollow of the cave, and the Nazi soldiers did their best to stay in formation inside the cave. The Standartenführer, standing under the Nazi flag hanging on one of the walls, began to explain his plan:

"After the last reconnaissance missions, I finally decided how we are going to launch our attack against the enemy." He started. His troops were listening carefully. "Instead of one big operation and instead of various small operations, we will make a big operation consisting of small operations!" He smiled. "Sascha and Rottenführer Bergen, step forward!"

And so did the mentioned zombies, and they came to stand on each side of Herzog. The SS leader wrapped an arm around Sascha's shoulders:

"My annoying Ordonnanz will lead a small assault group, consisting of 10 soldiers and one «volunteer», to destroy the power plant! The ones willing to go with Sascha, form a line at his left."

The 10 SS soldiers «discovered» by Agnes trotted to Sascha's left. Herzog let go of Sascha and placed a hand on Bergen's shoulder, holding with it an iron grip just to remind the young Rottenführer he hadn't forgot the incident with the prisoner:

"Rottenführer Bergen will lead a small assault group, consisting of 3 soldiers, to destroy the gas station! The ones willing to go with Rottenführer Bergen, form a line at his right."

Unsurprisingly, Michael and Joachim trotted happily to their corporal's side. Discreetly, Fritz pushed Dietrich forwards, who looked around, feeling suddenly lost, but ended up shyly making his way to stand beside the tank crew. The Nazi troops chuckled and Sascha nodded in approval; his Fritz was always making him proud.

Herzog dismissed the soldiers at his sides:

"The rest of you, gentlemen, are going to destroy the communication routes and the supermarket with me. Then Sascha's and Rottenführer Bergen's assault groups will meet us in Talvik at exactly, and I repeat, exactly... 1 a.m." Herzog began to pace back and forth, hands behind his back and still looking at his troops. "We start the mobilization at 8 p.m., we must be in place at 10 p.m. and we have to move to Talvik at 11 p.m.. Our operation begins in December the 24th and ends in December the 25th."

The soldiers laughed, delighted.

* * *

It was the first day of September. In the following day, Agnes would be in an airplane to Berlin. She woke up early in the morning and cleaned the house, then had a bowl of cereals for lunch and began to pack; she had already done a list of the things she would need, now all she had to do was shove everything into a travel bag and her bagback and check the list.

And she had just picked up the first item when someone knocked at the door. With a sigh, the young woman went to open the door.

It was Herzog.

They stared at each other for a moment, until Agnes stepped aside and he got in. She locked the door after him and he turned around to face her. She still had the now faint marks of his fingers on her face. He hesitated, but ended up taking a bloody glove from his hand and touched her face.

Agnes didn't flinch when his dead cold hand touched her, and she eventually leaned in to the touch and held his wrist with both of her hands:

"So... Romans." Herzog said and forced a smile. "Did you know that emperor Caligula nominated his horse Incitatus senator?"

"Historians aren't sure, Hein... "The Twelve Caesars" was written in a period when... well, they didn't like the Julio-Claudian dynasty anymore." Agnes replied and forced a smile too, remembering everything Dietrich had told her.

Herzog shrugged and cherished her face with his thumb:

"When I was a kid I wanted to have a pet horse and name him Incitatus, too..." He told. "Instead of a horse I got a Sascha."

Agnes burst into laughter and shook her head, helplessly:

"Good humour does suit you." She concluded.

Some time later Agnes was packing up, and Herzog, dressed in a training suit, was sitting on the mattress, watching her. They hadn't talked about the ruined weekend, and honestly none of them wanted to. The Standartenführer laid down; he couldn't do much, so he would do everything not to disturb her.

Agnes took a while to pack everything and check it, and when she was finally done it was already dark outside. She left her lugagge in the living room and went to the kitchen; Herzog had been there for a while, making her dinner:

"Maybe I shouldn't stay, you have an airplane to catch." He mumbled while she was eating. Agnes sighed, not taking her eyes off the dish of sausages and mashed potatoes:

"Maybe..." She replied. Herzog nodded, and he had to admit her confirmation hurt:

"I'm going to launch the big offensive in December. You'll be back by then, isn't it?"

"December the 28th, yes." Agnes finally looked at him.

The Standartenführer looked old, and tired. Yet his mutilated mouth offered her a small, mysterious smile. But that smile didn't last long, and he parted his lips like he wanted to say something. That didn't happen, though, and he just sighed. Herzog looked away, to the full-lenght window; he felt like kneeling and begging her pretty-please not to run away from him, not to leave him... but he still had his pride, and he didn't want to look like a fool... and maybe Agnes would notice he was trusting her:

"Hein?" She called him after a while. He looked at her, and his blue eyes locked on her's hazel. The kitchen light made Agnes' eyes look like pools of honey streaked of emerald. Herzog mentally cursed himself for never having said anything about it, about how he loved the colour changes of her eyes. "It's not like I'm running from you..." She mumbled; it wasn't _exactly_ that...

"Are you a mind reader, Fräulein?" The Standartenführer asked, smiling sadly. Agnes mimicked his smile and shrugged:

"No... I just... know you, I guess."

"You make me sound childish." Herzog grumbled and stood up. "I should get my uniform..."

Little later they were at the door, Herzog dressed in his uniform but with the blood-drenched gloves in a pocket of his trench coat. His hands were cupping Agnes' face:

"Don't strain your knee." He said patiently, and Agnes smiled. "Don't skip meals. Go to bed early." He rolled his eyes, thinking, and smiled. "And do not strain your knee."

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer." She giggled. "And you... don't get caught."

"Jawolh, Fräulein Archäologin." He replied with a chuckle.

They stared at each other. It reminded Herzog too much of the night before his departure to the western front, during the First World War, of how he had left to find nothing when he returned. Agnes had to be a mind reader... or maybe he just forgot to stop looking when a sorrowful expression crossed his face. He felt her small hands on his cheeks, her thumbs touching the corners of his mouth:

"I'm not Erika." The young woman said.

Herzog nodded, shyly, and walked away.

* * *

**Weeeee, review?**


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's note: **so, for the past 2 weeks I have been happily doing some field work and riding on horseback on the weekends for hours... but thanks to my carelessness, an old lesion made me end my archaeological and equestrian adventures one week earlier. ;-; I feel so sad right now...

Buah...

Also, two more chapters and this story is over!

And thank you guys for the reviews.

* * *

The moment Agnes stepped in the inn where the participants of the course were going to stay, she automatically knew that had been a **huge** mistake. It seemed like the first time she had entered the orphanage; strange faces turning around to look at her, in an unknown new place, and there was no one nearby she knew to comfort her.

Memories of the years in the orphanage came to the surface of her mind, some of them about situations Agnes didn't even remember anymore she had lived. That scared her, and for a moment she considered turning on her heels and leave, catch an airplane again and go back to Norway.

Go back to Herzog.

Yet she shook her head; she would have to deal it that, at least to prove herself she could handle being out of her comfort zone for a while. Said comfort zone being Herzog's and Herzog's soldiers' company…

With a bitter, almost invisible smile, Agnes made her way to the room she was supposed to stay in, with her backbag and travel bag, and crossed the short corridor of the inn to go upstairs. There were a few groups of smiling people here and there, chatting animatedly and giving her no attention. Still with a bitter smile, this time bigger, Agnes opened the door of her room and got in; the last time she had tried to prove herself something, it had ended with Erik dead, Herzog in a mad murderous state and Agnes hurt, and all of that had finally leaded her to her current situation.

She closed the door, dragged her stuff to the middle of the room and looked around; it was a small, rustic room, with a bed under the small circular window, a wardrobe and a door to the tiniest private bathroom ever. Outside it started to rain, and the young woman began to unpack her things.

It was the end of September the 2nd, and Agnes wondered if Herzog missed her so much like she missed him. She felt her eyes sting and allowed herself to cry, terrified for being alone with all that unknown people, far away from home.

* * *

Herzog did his best to keep his mind busy and not think (much) about Agnes' absence. Every night he would take his men to the terrain and they would rehearsal the big offensive, it had to be completely flawless. During the day, Sascha usually stayed around him, telling jokes or simply talking about random things. Herzog had to admit he did like Sascha's company, he just didn't like his Ordonnanz to treat him like a traumatized little child who needed someone's attention 24h a day.

The Standartenführer decided that he would leave «Operation Recover the Loot» for another time, because he didn't want the Norwegian enemy to be wary.

In October, Herzog told his men they should start gathering more «volunteers», but they were not allowed to kill groups of people. Only lonely adventurers who ignored the local authorities about how dangerous the mountains were.

And, slowly, people went missing. But no one dared to climb the mountains and look for them.

In November, there was this group of noisy teenagers that decided to camp halfway up the mountain, in the southern slope. There was no forested area around, only a few scattered dead trees, and the young boys and girls found it really hard to collect wood for the fireplace on where they intended to cook sausages.

While collecting branches, one of the boys noticed a lonely stick coming out of the snow, and he obviously couldn't miss the chance to get more wood for the fireplace. It took him a while to get the stick off the snow, and he and his friends were so joyous with their little adventure that no one noticed the bloody pulp on the other end of the stick.

In the next morning the teenagers left, convinced that, if they had survived a night in those famous terrible mountains, they were invincible. And when they were out of sight and hearing range, two heads emerged from the snow, with their helmets covered in snow.

Konrad cast Dietrich an uneasy look:

"If we run, we can catch them and avenge your stick…" He suggested shyly. Slowly, Dietrich looked at him, and the empty eye socket where once had been the stick was way creepier than his healthy grey eye. He was bleeding profusely from his now empty eye socket, but seemed undisturbed by it:

"Herzog said we couldn't kill groups." The grey-eyed zombie replied and stood up from the snow, shaking his uniform and making his way to the remains of the fireplace. Konrad hurried to follow his comrade:

"Yeah, but…" He mumbled and stopped beside Dietrich, who was looking sadly at the small pile of ashes inside a circle of stones. His stick, or what was left of it, now rested peacefully among the ashes of other little innocent branches. Konrad bit his lower lip and scratched his nape, under the helmet. "Are you fine?"

"He was a good stick…" The other soldier replied with a sad sigh, and his dark blonde eyebrows furrowed a little. "He listened to me… He was a good friend."

"Well, how many times have I told you not to leave your stick… sticking out?" Konrad grumbled annoyedly. Dietrich looked at him like he had said the most horrible thing in the world:

"The stick was claustrophobic! I couldn't simply keep him under the snow, he hated that!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake Dietrich!" Konrad groaned and held Dietrich's wrist. "Come on… let's see if the Doctor can fix you…"

When they reached the cave they found Herzog using Sascha's back to spread his map. Sascha wasn't very amused. The Doctor was standing nearby, talking to Michael about the many life-saving surgeries he had performed. Michael wasn't exactly interested on that, and he was the first to notice Dietrich and Konrad coming. He widened his only eye:

"Hey Dietrich, there's something missing on you!" He exclaimed, tilting his head to one side.

The Doctor looked at the new-arrived.

Herzog stopped using his fingers as a compass and looked too. Sascha stopped ranting about how he was not a table and looked too.

Dietrich looked down, uncomfortable with all those people looking at him. Konrad sighed, tiredly:

"So… there were these folks… they took the stick and burned it." He resumed:

"What do you mean with «they took the stick and burned it» if the stick was in his eye?" Herzog asked, folded the map, shoved it into an inside pocket of his trench coat and walked with large strides to Dietrich. "Were you attacked, Dietrich?"

"No, he just left the stupid stick sticking out, again!" Konrad explained:

"Hey hey, I make the puns!" Sascha complained, stretching his sore (he thought it sore) back:

"Now he can have an eyepatch and be as awesome as me!" Michael exclaimed, trotting to his one-eyed comrade. The Doctor trotted after Michael:

"No, no and no! I can stitch his eye closed or we could find a prosthetic eye or-"

"But an eye-patch is aesthetic!" Michael complained. "You have no idea of how successful I was with the French women in 1943!"

"Do you want a new stick, Dietrich?" Sascha asked, joining the little semi-circle around Dietrich. Konrad facepalmed:

"It was just a stick, goddamit! It's not like he's a child who lost his favourite toy!"

"It wasn't just a stick, he was my friend…" Dietrich muttered sadly. Konrad grimaced:

"Yeah? You should have taken better care of it!" He snapped:

"An eye-patch will look good on you!" Michael said and nodded in approval:

"First things first, I have to stop that bleeding!" The Doctor exclaimed:

"It's not like we're going to die of blood loss, so what if we all went on a quest for a new stick?" Sascha asked and even began to walk away, decided to find his comrade a prettier stick:

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Herzog called, raising his voice, and the other zombies eventually went quiet. He pulled the officer cap from his head and ran a hand on his shaved scalp, exasperatedly. "We are all adults here, stop behaving like children! Dietrich needs that bleeding to stop, now! Then we can discuss what comes next, if a new stick, if an eye-patch."

"Even you, Herr Standartenführer?" Konrad howled in disbelief.

Victoriously, the Doctor grabbed Dietrich by the wrist and pulled him back to the cave. Michael slipped a hand into an inside pocket of his leather jacket and showed everybody a spare eye-patch:

"This is the solution of all of his problems!" He exclaimed happily and followed the Doctor:

"No no no, I don't want him to believe an eye-patch is his best friend, that stupid stick was enough!" Konrad roared angrily and hurried after Michael.

Herzog and Sascha watched them go. The Standartenführer pinched his nose bridge, sighing tiredly, and Sascha burst out laughing, falling to his knees. He eventually calmed down a little and wiped an imaginary tear:

"Life would be so boring without that little dude…" He sighed, still giggling. Herzog cast his Ordonnanz an annoyed look:

"We are dead, Sascha." He replied and glanced over his shoulder, to the cave. "Poor Dietrich, he liked the stick so much…"

"Now that I think of it, it's going to be really weird to see him walk around without that stick…"

* * *

In the cave, the Doctor made Dietrich sit on a rock under one of the torches, and he happily trotted to his little corner, then came back with a dirty bloody cloth in one hand, and in the other a needle with thread. He pressed the cloth over Dietrich's empty eye socket and began to whistle a German folk song.

Konrad and Michael came to stand behind the Doctor, pushing each other and speaking at the same time about how Dietrich should replace his stick. The Doctor gave up on whistling and suggested them to leave his patient alone, or he would stitch their mouths closed. None of the zombies gave him much credibility, and the Doctor eventually gave up threatening them and worked with the two annoying soldiers behind his back; he wiped the excess of blood away and then prepared to stitch Dietrich's eyelids, but the grey-eyed soldier shook his head and stood up:

"Nein…" He mumbled and bypassed the Doctor, who cast him the saddest look ever:

"But…!" The Doctor tried. Michael and Konrad hurried after Dietrich:

"An eye-patch is the best option for this kind of thing! I know what I'm talking about!" The Panzer soldier exclaimed. Konrad pressed a hand over his mouth, forcing him to shut up:

"Just stop giving him crazy ideas!" He growled angrily. "It's not you who has to put up with him!"

Dietrich looked over his shoulder, to Konrad. They were already in the corridor that leaded to the exit of the cave, and the day outside was sunny enough to allow the sunbeams deep into the corridor. It was still dim, though, and Dietrich's only eye looked pitch black. The one-eyed zombie looked for a moment to his two arguing comrades, until he finally bolted out of the cave.

Outside, Herzog was just about to use Sascha as a table again. They both nearly lost their balance when Dietrich stormed into them, and Sascha eventually fell face first on the snow, yelling a barrage of profanity at the top of his lungs.

Dietrich kept running away.

Herzog looked at his fugitive soldier, confused, with a lopsided officer cap on his head. He arranged his officer cap and looked curiously at the cave, from where Konrad, Michael and the Doctor were coming:

"What the hell did you do to him?" Herzog asked and frowned his hairless eyebrows. "Dietrich might be a little… too innocent, but he never fled!"

"These two bastards frightened my patient!" The Doctor complained angrily. Both Michael and Konrad pushed him away:

"No, this démodé guy knows nothing about one-eyed fashion!" Michael replied, aggrieved. Konrad pulled the helmet off his head and whacked Michael with it:

"Do you have any idea of what is it like to put up with that over-sized kid?"

"Can't be worse than putting up with me." Sascha said and stood up, frowning a little. "Don't be such a bastard, Konrad."

"Try to baby-sit Dietrich when he decides to be a philosopher…" Konrad replied annoyedly.

Herzog sighed and folded the map again, but didn't keep it in a pocket; hopefully, he would manage to solve the situation and dismiss his disturbing soldiers:

"Herr Doctor, go back to the cave. Michael, bring me Rottenführer Bergen. Konrad, go after Dietrich and apologize, because I know you said something to upset him. Sascha, I still need you as a table." The Standartenführer commanded, and everyone did as he said. However Konrad opened his mouth to protest, but Herzog raised a threatening index finger. "Don't you dare, young man!"

Konrad kept his mouth open, but no complain came out. He hesitated a little, until Herzog narrowed his eyes. Then Konrad hurried to go after Dietrich.

Sascha burst out laughing again and Herzog massaged his temples:

"They will never grow up, will they? You included." He groaned.

* * *

Konrad took a while to find Dietrich, because when the grey-eyed zombie didn't want to be found, he was never found. Or was only found after a long and extenuating search. Konrad found Dietrich sitting at the edge of a cliff, happily swinging his legs above the abyss. The grey-eyed zombie seemed unaware of Konrad's approach. _Seemed._

With a sigh, Konrad sat beside Dietrich and looked at him. He was met by the empty eye socket, and it was still bleeding a little.

* * *

_Konrad was this regular soldier of a task group; quiet, without any exceptional characteristic like Sascha's humour… or Dietrich's innocence._

_He simply got stuck with Dietrich, because nobody else was in the mood to put up with that strange creature, always smiling and apparently unaware of how nobody wanted him around. It wasn't part of Konrad's plans to have the poster-boy gravitating around him, it just happened when they finished an indoors rugby game in Moravia, 1938, when Herzog called them to dinner; they ended up sitting side by side, Dietrich began to talk with him and Konrad, just because he was polite, replied once or twice… and from that day on Dietrich never let him go again._

_With time, Konrad grew used to Dietrich; to his innocence, to his dumbness, to his smiles and shiny grey eyes that changed to white with the light. Konrad was a little smaller and bulkier than his comrade, was a day older, had light brown hair, blue eyes, a rude broken nose and a square ass in the place of a chin according to Sascha. Konrad had to admit Dietrich's stupidity and naivety was extremely amusing, but he also had to admit that sometimes it bothered him when the other soldiers mocked Dietrich. So, he became the guy who allowed the fun to begin and forced the fun to end._

_And there was just this other little thing about Dietrich, a façade only Konrad knew; Dietrich was unnaturally sensitive and he easily read people, guessed their thoughts, knew how they would act. It freaked out Konrad, how the grey-eyed soldier began his long philosophical monologues (monologues because Konrad never replied) about everything and everyone; it freaked him out because special forces soldiers are not like that, because Dietrich was simply too dumb to be able to think like that, because he couldn't understand why on earth it had to be him listening to Dietrich's impressions about the people around them. So, Konrad began to yell at him, hoping the grey-eyed soldier would shut up._

_And Dietrich would always shut up, even if just for a little bit._

_Another thing only Konrad knew was that sometimes Dietrich cried. The grey-eyed soldier never told him what was wrong, but Konrad had always presumed that sometimes he would grow tired of having everybody picking on him. Those were the moments in which Konrad felt extremely guilty, because he was the first and the worse to mock and humiliate Dietrich, and he couldn't understand why on earth his taller comrade allowed him to stay around and even looked for his comfort._

_Something that also freaked out Konrad was Dietrich's inability to feel physical pain; Konrad saw Dietrich be shot, stabbed and hit with shrapnel, and saw him being stitched, have minor surgeries and have to move around with broken bones or fresh stitches… and not even once Dietrich shed a tear, or winced in pain, or reacted in any way. When Herzog found out about it, he ordered Konrad to never, ever take his eyes off Dietrich._

_So Konrad found himself even more stuck with Dietrich, and officially baby-sitting him._

_In 1940, when the Einsatzgruppe was preparing to go back to Germany, Konrad was completely caught off guard when Dietrich begged him to spend at least one week of their 3 months leave with him, in his castle in the Hess. And Konrad, unable to sustain that pair of pleading grey-eyes, accepted to stay with Dietrich for 2 months._

_And that only creeped him out more…_

_It started when a chauffeur went to pick him up at his parent's apartment, in Berlin, driving a big black Mercedes. The journey was horribly silent, and Konrad, alone in the backseat of the huge car, began to wonder if that had been a good idea._

_When he finally found himself in the von Auttenberg's castle, he seriously considered grabbing his backbag and run away; the castle was located on the top of a small mountain, surrounded by dark trees and huge rock outcrops, and the building, besides being huge, was built with dark stone. It was a medieval castle with a thick wall and some gothic decorations, and it had belonged to Dietrich's family since ever._

_But Dietrich's happiness when he came out of nowhere and hugged Konrad with the strength of a piton made the smaller soldier think that maybe Dietrich needed company in that horrible place, and come on, it couldn't be worse than putting up with Dietrich in the battlefield._

_Konrad didn't like Dietrich's family, and Dietrich's family didn't like Konrad. Apparently unaware of the bad environment in the castle, the grey-eyed soldier spent the remaining 2 months of their leave showing Konrad every secret hideout and passageway of the castle, and taught him to fence, play tennis, ride on horseback, play the piano and violin and speak Latin. Konrad felt like a complete idiot, because suddenly Dietrich seemed like the most cultured creature in the world, and the blue-eyed soldier realised he only knew Dietrich the soldier, and not Dietrich the 20 years-old guy._

_Konrad stayed in Dietrich's bedroom, and he hated that room with a passion; it was huge, dark and empty, in spite of Dietrich's colourful paintings spread all over the place. And he hated the yard where they practiced fencing; it was huge, dark and oppressive, with all the gargoyles looking at them from the roofs and the many windows of the nearest tower. And he hated the garden where they played tennis; it was huge, with too many dark trees and no flowers, and the butler waiting near a bench with bottles of water and cakes always reminded Konrad of a vulture. And he hated Dietrich's horse, a huge albino Hessian Warmblood that he considered the creepiest of all horses. And he hated the dining room; it was huge, dark, with a table so long Konrad was sure every important member of the Nazi Party would have a place to sit, and with all those armours and deer heads watching them, and of course Dietrich's family._

_There was this day that, after dinner and having a shower, Konrad got in the room and found Dietrich crying. Seeing Dietrich cry was extremely terrifying; the grey-eyed soldier simply stared into nothing, his face completely blank, but with rivers of tears running down his face. Dietrich was lying over his half of his king-sized bed that he shared with Konrad (much for the blue-eyed soldier's dismay)._

_Frowning, the smaller soldier sat at the edge of the bed, facing Dietrich, with his legs crossed:_

_"What now?" Konrad asked patiently. Dietrich looked at him, and in the dimness of the room, illuminated by the fireplace at the other side of the room, Dietrich's eyes seemed pitch black:_

_"I'm just tired, Kon…" Dietrich mumbled. Konrad nodded. "You don't like this. My family doesn't like you. I'm just tired…."_

_"I like this!" Konrad replied, somewhat taken aback; he liked but didn't like at the same time. He was enjoying spending his time with Dietrich and getting to know the «dumb and slow» soldier better, he just didn't like the place and the other people involved. It was strange and he couldn't really specify his feelings, he had never been skilled to deal with them, and he had hoped Dietrich would think he was happy. Seemed he had been wrong all the time, and seemed that Dietrich wasn't unaware of his family's disapproving stares at them._

_Then Dietrich, still crying, began his monologue about how Konrad was hating that, and how his family was hating that too, and how that was exhausting and that he only wanted to have a good time before being mobilized again, but Konrad didn't really want to listen and this time he found a nice way to make Dietrich shut up; he knew Dietrich liked to have his hair stirred, so he hurried to stir Dietrich's dark blonde hair. The grey-eyed soldier eventually shut up and fell asleep._

_When they went to Norway, Konrad had several colds with really high fever. He had to admit that, every time he had to stay at the Einsatzgruppe's headquarters and Dietrich wasn't there to make him company, he felt really revolted with life. And with Dietrich, and when the younger soldier finally came back Konrad would spend hours rambling on how Dietrich was a bad comrade._

_The night Konrad was on his way to switch shifts with Dietrich and saw the grey-eyed soldier be stabbed and left aside on the snow, to die, all the blue-eyed soldier wanted to do was to run to his fallen comrade and yell at him not to dare dying. But instead he turned on his heels and ran into the house, to the living room, and told everybody they were being attacked. Then the rebels outside threw an explosive into the house, through the window, and it exploded next to Konrad. He was hit by shrapnel, that dug deep into his abdomen and chest, tore off the skin on the right side of his neck and tore off his right ear, and Konrad died slowly and painfully, and all he could do was blaming Dietrich for not having seen the insurgent Norwegian peasants._

_When Herzog woke them up, all Konrad did was stare; even dead and after such a painful death (that Dietrich didn't feel at all), the grey-eyed soldier still had that innocent face, the easy smile and still followed Konrad like a loyal dog… and still had the philosophical monologues._

* * *

Dietrich looked away and sighed, both tiredly and sadly. And Konrad felt a lump in his throat:

"Dieter?" He called softly. "Look… I-"

"You're angry because the stick was a better friend than you and I spent more time with him than with you. That's why you don't want me to get another stick, you're jealous and you can't stand the fact that someone liked me for what I am." Dietrich said and looked at the blue-eyed soldier.

There was no accusation in Dietrich's voice, nor in his expression. He had simply made a statement, like he had commented something casual and absolutely normal. Konrad grew paler.

Shit, he had been jealous of a stick! A stick! An inanimate piece of wood! So, that disgusting thing he felt every time Dietrich walked away from him, giggling and talking to his stick, had been jealousy! Now who was crazier, Dietrich or Konrad?

Konrad tried to shake his head, deny that he had been hurt because Dietrich had given more attention to that stupid piece of wood, but he was unable to do such. The grey-eyed soldier looked away again:

"You always liked to boss around, that made you feel great. You always loved to have me listening to your stuff, but you never cared about my stuff." Dietrich smiled. "I freak you out. I always did. It's obviously written all over your face, but that's your own fault, you know me too well."

Konrad grew even paler and gaped. Dietrich giggled like a happy child:

"But you know, I don't give a fuck about that!" He looked at Konrad, smiling. "I like you. You're my best friend, and you've done a lot for me. I'm just sad you don't let me speak, and that the only one I could talk to is gone. But I like you."

The blue-eyed zombie firstly felt angry and was about to yell at Dietrich and ask him why hadn't they had that talk earlier; he wouldn't have been such a bastard, then. Yet he soon felt despicable and even considered throwing himself off the cliff. Dietrich's smile died and he adopted the blank expression he had every time he cried:

"I'm tired, Kon…" Dietrich muttered. Konrad pulled Dietrich to a hug and stirred his hair:

"I know, Dieter…" He replied with a sigh. "I'm sorry."

They stood like that for a while, in silence, just like they used to do every time Konrad found Dietrich crying, until Konrad spoke again:

"We need to patch you up. Do you let me do it?"

Dietrich nodded, slowly.

* * *

Herzog had just finished explaining the marching order and the battle orders again when Konrad and Dietrich came back to the cave. And, just like Herzog expected, everybody stopped listening to him the moment they realised Dietrich's stick was gone.

The next thing Dietrich knew was that everybody was circling him, asking him what had happened to the stick. The Doctor elbowed a few soldiers, trying to reach Dietrich to finish what he had started, but the soldiers couldn't care less about him. Michael tried to reach Dietrich too, but Rottenführer Bergen held him by the back of his uniform, claiming that Michael was not allowed to be alone in troublesome crowds because he just had one eye to see what was happening around him.

Konrad finally managed to push everybody away and dragged Dietrich into the cave, leaving behind a revolted and hysterical battalion of zombies swearing revenge on whoever had killed Dietrich's stick and hurt their comrade and friend like that. Herzog had to roar at the top of his lungs to make his soldiers shut up.

In the cave, Konrad looked for gauze and bandages inside the Doctor's bag, placed on his little corner. He found them and covered Dietrich's empty eye-socket with the gauze, then wrapped the bandage around his head, to secure the gauze in place. A bloodstain began to grow in the gauze, and it stained the bandage too.

But it was better than a stick or an empty eye-socket.

Konrad stepped back to admire his master-piece, and concluded Dietrich finally looked like a real veteran and that his hair was a mess. That could not happen. So he helped Dietrich to move to their place and made him sit, and he kneeled behind him to start combing his dark blonde hair.

The other Nazi soldiers were calmer when they got in the cave, after Herzog lectured them about the importance of discipline. Sascha was utterly amused with the entire situation, but he couldn't help but feel terribly sorry for Herzog; the Standartenführer looked exhausted and the little wrinkles on his face looked deeper.

Herzog got in his little chamber, pulled the officer cap from his head and sat heavily on his field bed. Sascha followed him and stood in front of him, a small smile playing on his lips:

"What a day, uh?" He asked. Herzog looked up at him with his most unimpressed «really?» face. Then he sighed and hid his face on his hands:

"You never gave me this much trouble before!" He exclaimed exasperatedly:

"I hope that «you» means «the guys», because I have always been a role-model." Sascha chuckled. Herzog just grunted in response. "Anyway, move a little and make room for me. Tell me again those beautiful stories of yours during the Great War!"

"Go to sleep, Sascha." The Standartenführer said and pinched his nose bridge. "Take Fritz for a walk or something like that. Build a snowman, pull a prank on someone, just do something and leave me alone for a while!"

"Fritz is not a dog to be taken for a walk!" Sascha exclaimed, aggrieved. But it was a nice suggestion. He kneeled in front of Herzog and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Will you be fine, Herzog?"

Herzog cast Sascha an annoyed look:

"I'm tired, I want to sleep!"

"Very well, then. I'll go missing for tonight!" Sascha replied happily and trotted out of Herzog's private chamber and into the bigger hollow in the cave.

Fritz was sitting, looking at his boots, when Sascha grabbed his wrists and pulled him up:

"We have a mission!" He informed loudly and ran away, dragging Fritz along:

"Wie bitte?" The brown-eyed zombie asked, confused. They crossed the long corridor and found themselves outside, in the dark night, in the middle of a blizzard. Sascha looked at him and rose a blonde eyebrow, smiling mischievously. Fritz frowned. "Now you remember I exist?"

"I never forget about that." Sascha's smile died. "I love you, remember? And I hate you for making me sound so lame!"

Fritz just rose both eyebrows and allowed the blue-eyed zombie to pull him away, to the steep slope behind the cave.

In his little chamber, Herzog actually intended to sleep. But his mind refused to let him rest, and was constantly thinking about Agnes, about the big offensive, about future offensives after the big offensive… and even about Dietrich's missing stick.

Once Agnes came back, Herzog would definitely make up for having ruined their last weekend. And this big winter offensive was going to be perfect and glorious, and after this big offensive Herzog would calm down a little and give his men a well-deserved rest. Maybe 2 or 3 months… that would give him enough time to spend quality time with Agnes, clear his mind and have new and better ideas for the other offensives. Maybe in one of those offensives he should impale the local peasants with sticks, to teach them not to mess up with his soldier's sticky friends. Yes, this sounded like a good idea… He could even manage to successfully kill the entire population of that area and send them to kill the remaining Norwegian people! Then he would have more «volunteers», and then he would take over Norway, and then Sweden, and then Finland, and attack those damned Russians by the back and conquer Moscow!

And after Moscow, the rest of Europe!

With a content grunt, Herzog laid on the field bed and closed his eyes.

But still his mind made him think about Agnes. And Herzog couldn't sleep, because his glorious plans for a bright future seemed completely useless if Agnes wasn't there to share it with him.

At dawn, Herzog went outside. He considered going for a walk in his snowy domains, but he didn't want to find Sascha and Fritz… again… so he just stood at the entrance of the cave.

However, soon the other soldiers would leave the cave, and Herzog _did not_ want them to find Sascha and Fritz. With a sigh, Herzog decided to start looking for them in the slope behind the cave, because it was probably the quietest place in the mountain, due to its steepness and huge rock outcrops. And the Standartenführer actually found them, half-buried in snow. Carefully, he kneeled next to Sascha and, looking away, poked his shoulder.

Sascha stirred a little and opened one eye… and felt that there was someone else with him and Fritz. He turned his head to the left and damn, there was Herzog, doing his best not to look at Sascha, lying on top of Fritz. The blue-eyed soldier looked around and was very thankful for the snow covering their naked bodies. He sighed tiredly and looked at Herzog, who seemed very interested on his gloved hands:

"You must stop showing up like this…" Sascha hissed and hurried to look at Fritz, who was still asleep:

"Better me than Dietrich. You should hide better, at least!" Herzog stood up and walked away; poor Fritz, if there was anyone who should spend the entire day with Sascha, that was him. Rottenführer Bergen would surely feel very happy to spend that day with Herzog, looking at the map and feeling important. Herzog shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yes, hide better…"

"What?" Sascha frowned and watched the Standartenführer walk away. Seemed Herzog had given him and Fritz the day off… With a content grunt, Sascha looked at the sleeping Fritz and began to plan how to spend the day.

* * *

Finally, December the 24th. The zombie battalion was too excited, and Herzog actually had a hard time to keep his men in the cave, as he explained the plan and all the details for the last time. So far, he had managed to focus solely on their operation and had forgotten a little Agnes' absence, thanks to months of sleepless nights; however now, as the day of her arrival was approaching, he was having a hard time to focus on his soldiers, and he was glad Sascha was constantly around him talking nonstop about killing the peasants.

At night Herzog came out of the cave, heading his troops, and «woke up» all the volunteers they had hidden near the cave. Erik was among them, and a sudden wrath took over Herzog when he looked at the young policeman's face, and the Standartenführer decided he simply had to destroy that damned face. Completely. So he punched Erik's face until it was just a horrid, unrecognizable bloody pulp.

At exactly 8 p.m., the Nazi battalion split, each group followed by its' «volunteers». Sascha decided it would be a good idea to take Erik with him; that would keep Herzog safe from sudden wrath attacks and would keep him reasoning.

Sascha and his group headed to the power plant.

Rottenführer Bergen and his men made their way to the gas station.

The rest of the troops and «volunteers» followed Herzog down the mountain; they would destroy the road as they headed to the supermarket.

* * *

It was snowing when Sascha and his assult group reached the power plant. The zombies made a quick reconnaissance of the perimeter, just to be sure they were alone, and then Sascha pointed the electrocuted fence:

"Uglies, make way for us!" He commanded his 5 «volunteers». And they slowly walked to the fence and tried to break it. It didn't work and they were all projected backwards, only to come back again and try to unbury the nearest poles. This time they were successful, and they held the poles high above their heads as the Nazi zombies crawled to the other side of the fence.

When the group was all on the other side, Sascha clapped his hands:

"Who brought grenades?" He asked gleefully:

"We brought grenades!" The 10 SS soldiers cheered. Sascha made a little victory dance:

"Lets blow up this shit!" He sang and leaded the group to the control panels under the electricity towers; it was a relatively small power plant, with 10 towers, a small office house and a concrete block with a door, where Sascha presumed the generator was. "Jürgen, Max and Hans, you destroy those control panels. The rest comes with me; we're going to kick the door open and destroy the generator."

It was with great joy that the SS zombies destroyed the control panels with powerful blows with the stocks of their rifles, and they watched with marvel as the loose electricity in the control panels eventually set them on fire. Laughing, they joined Sascha's group, who had kicked the door open and was now piling grenades at the base of the generator:

"Now we run!" Sascha exclaimed as he activated a grenade and threw it to the neat pile at the base of the generator. The Nazi zombies ran to a safe distance. There was a mighty explosion, black smoke and huge bright flames rose to the sky. Then the SS zombies, laughing, bent and deformed a few electricity towers, and that caused the wire to short circuit.

They crawled out of the power plant, killed the «volunteers» and left as silently as possible.

* * *

Rottenführer Bergen, Michael, Joachim and Dietrich hid behind the bushes that bordered the parking lot of the gas station. From there, they were out of reach of the security cameras and could see everything:

"We need that lighter!" Dietrich said when he saw a man coming to his car and lit a cigarette. Luckily, his car was parked right in front of the Nazi zombies. Quickly, Michael stood up, held the man by the arm and pulled him down. The man couldn't even understand what was going on, because Joachim broke his neck:

"Lighter for you, guts for us!" Rottenführer Bergen exclaimed contently and used his SS dagger to cut open the man's abdomen. Dietrich gave him little attention, playing happily with the lighter. The tank crew removed their victim's intestines and, while Joachim broke open the fuel deposit of the car, Michael took the chance that no one was looking and ran to the nearest fill pipe.

Someone left the cafeteria and the zombies froze. Even Dietrich stopped playing with the lighter. Michael stepped back to the shadows, hoping it would be enough.

But whoever came out didn't go in the zombie's direction. They all heard an engine starting and then a car being driven away.

Sighing with relief, Joachim slipped the end of the intestines into the deposit. Across them, near the fill pipe, Michael stepped out of the shadows and sucked the air from his end of the intestines. When the gasoline began to pour over the metal lid of the fill pipe, he made his back to where his comrades were waiting for him, leaving a trail of fuel on the snow:

"The bigger the fire, the best; we should burn the trees too." Dietrich suggested, playing again with the lighter:

"I'm in charge! I mean, can I be in charge? I'm a Rottenführer!" Rottenführer Bergen hissed in disbelief:

"I think it's a good idea, Dietrich!" Michael opined. Joachim chuckled and moved to the nearest car, to steal the fuel from it:

"The brotherhood of the one-eyed guys!" He commented. "But I think Dietrich is right, too."

Rottenführer Bergen sighed sadly and watched as Joachim and Michael emptied another car deposit in the snow-covered tree trunks behind them. It began to snow, gently, and Dietrich lit the lighter and approached it to the end of the gasoline trail Michael had left:

"Men, run!" Rottenführer Bergen ordered before someone else did. Dietrich lit the trail and a flame snaked quickly towards the fill pipe. Giggling, Dietrich turned around, lit the fuel on the trees and hurried to run after his comrades.

There was the sound of a big explosion, screams and the dark night suddenly turned brighter thanks to the huge flames that rose towards the sky, among black smoke. Running away in the forest, Dietrich glanced over his shoulder and sighed sadly:

"I miss my flamethrower…" He mumbled:

"I miss my Panzer…" Michael said, running next to him.

* * *

As they reached the roadside, Herzog divided his men and «volunteers» in two groups and sent one of them to the other side of the road. Then he crouched and shoved a pile of snow aside, until his fingers brushed the place where the asphalt met the ground:

"Now we just have to lift!" He instructed, and hooked his fingers under the asphalt and lifted it, like he would lift a heavy box.

He broke a piece of the road, and caused a huge crack to crawl in all directions. The Nazi zombies cheered and followed their commander's example. They did this all the way to the supermarket, and that was when Herzog gave some of his «volunteers» a few grenades:

"Use one of these to break into that place, then destroy everything with the rest." He ordered. The «volunteers» with grenades made their way to the supermarket, the rest of them and the Nazi troops kept destroying the road all the way to Talvik.

Finally, they made it to Talvik. The small city was completely dark, only the light from the fireplaces in the houses cast an eery light in the streets. It was 1 a.m., Sascha and Rottenführer Bergen were already waiting for Herzog, and they saluted as the Standartenführer approached them:

"Power plant destroyed, no one was there, no one went there." Sascha informed:

"Heil Hitler, Herr Standartenführer!" Rottenführer Bergen saluted more formally. "Gas station destroyed, we saw no one going there after we left!"

"It's Christmas, people are too busy celebrating to pay attention to their surroundings. Especially when there is no electricity!" Herzog grinned darkly. "We must stay together, now."

And, moving as silently as possible, the Nazi zombies and their remaining «volunteers» snaked in the shadows between the houses and began their attack; they started with the houses nearer to the road, because they were relatively isolated. All they had to do was kicking the door open, get it and shoot down everybody. Sascha, who hadn't shot a machine gun in years, was laughing maniacally.

They managed to wipe 3 houses before the Norwegian people noticed something was wrong. That was when the screams began, and people started to run outside, wrapping themselves in thick jackets to protect themselves from the cold. Herzog sent his «volunteers» to take care of those people and ordered Dietrich to burn down the houses they had attacked.

Dietrich was more than happy to pull wood out of the fireplace, and in a house he even found fuel.

In less than 10 minutes, the outskirts of Talvik, near the road, were on fire and all the people that lived in those houses were dead. Watching the houses burn, Herzog considered going further and finally advance to the town… but even though his «volunteers» were going from house to house to kill people and had killed those who had gathered in the streets, he didn't want to take the risk to expose his men to possible survivors.

So he simply revived all the people who had been killed outside, told them to proceed the killing spree and ordered his victorious troops to retreat.

And, as they ran through the forest parallel to the destroyed road, they began to hear the sirens in the police and firemen's cars.

* * *

When the Nazi battalion reached the cave, it was already morning. A beautiful Christmas morning. Herzog was feeling exhausted, and in spite of their remaining excitement the soldiers were exhausted too.

However, everybody went to their usual posts, and they waited for a possible attack.

The attack never came, and Herzog declared his troops the glorious victors of that short Winter campaign.

At the dawn of December the 28th, Herzog made his way down the mountain and waited for Agnes for the whole day. In spite of feeling exhausted, the Standartenführer was as alert as in an important mission, but there was only snow and trees and silence around him. The night came, gelid, but he didn't feel the cold and his icy breathing caused no steam. He began to feel impatient and started to pace back and forth under the trees. The night grew darker.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, there was the distant sound of an engine. Herzog trotted to the border of the forest and peeked among the branches. He saw the light from the headlights first, then the shape of Agnes' jeep.

Like in a trance, he stepped out of his hiding place, not bothered at all with the intensity of the headlights. The jeep stopped and he walked to it, slowly. He swore he could feel his heart pound in his chest, pound so strongly it seemed about to rip through bones and muscle and jump out. This reminded him of when he went to Erika's house, so maybe that was why he wasn't smiling.

And maybe his heart wasn't «hypothetically pounding» with whatever good thing makes someone's heart pound when their beloved is gone for a while and comes back. Herzog was afraid. He noticed his hands were shaking.

The driver's door opened and Agnes came out of the jeep. Herzog didn't have much time to study her face like he had done with Erika, because the next thing he knew what that she was clutching to him and his arms had somehow wrapped around her, and he hadn't even noticed.

Then the next thing he knew was that they were in the house.

And the next thing he knew was that they were in the bedroom and Agnes' small and faintly warm body was pressed against his cold body, and his arms were wrapped around her tightly.

* * *

Herzog opened one eye, lazily, and wondered how it could be so bright in the room if the blinds were closed. Nevermind. He pulled Agnes closer and closed his eye again.

Then he frowned and opened both eyes, confused and sleepy, and looked at the young woman; Agnes was thinner. Again. And she had been crying, even though there was the ghost of a smile on her lips. And why was she in underwear?

And why was he underwear?

And why weren't they covered with the blanket?

Herzog blushed and considered moving away a little, just for the sake of decency.

But…

That closeness felt good. And he was still exhausted, and Agnes was obviously exhausted too. So he sighed and rested his head on the pillow again, and closed his eyes.

A few hours went by until Herzog woke up again. He was feeling tired, but at least it wasn't exhaustion anymore. His mutilated mouth curved into a little smile and, carefully, he caressed Agnes' face with the back of his hand.

Agnes stirred a little and opened one eye, then the other, and stared at Herzog with a sleepy expression. Slowly, the sleepy expression vanished and she smiled, running her eyes up and down his body:

"Herr Standartenführer, I had never seen you in underwear!" She exclaimed, obviously amused with the situation. Herzog blushed again and she giggled:

"It was not part of my plans, Fräulein, to let you see me in underwear." He replied. She laughed, and Herzog wondered if he should have explained himself better.

He had missed the crystalline sound of her laughter. Well, he had missed her. He shook his head, smiling, hugged her and rolled over his back, dragging her with him and making her lie on top of him. She crossed her arms over his broad chest, a huge smile on her face, and he ran his fingers through her messy hair:

"I missed you, mein Schatz." He said in a low growl. Agnes' smile died, and she buried her face on the crook of his neck. Herzog didn't need her to tell him she had missed him too, so all he did was wrap his arms strongly and comfortingly around her small and fragile body.

Agnes' body was shaken by a sob. She wanted to tell him how much she had hated to be away for those months, how painfully slowly the time had passed, how horrible it had been to be alone with so many people around her, how she hadn't been hungry but had grown weak due to the lack of food, how she had wanted to give up but at the same time had forced herself to stay, how sickening it had been to stay alone while everybody celebrated Christmas, and how exhausting it had been driving all the way from the Hasvik Airport. Right now, she felt like she couldn't say all of that, she didn't have the strenght to.

She had watched in the news, in Berlin, about the «terrorist attacks» in that part of Norway, and that had brought her a little happy and cozy feeling, because that had meant Herzog's big offensive had been a success, which meant he and his soldiers were fine… and that he would finally calm down a little and they could spend some time together.

With a sigh, Agnes forced herself to stop crying and rested her forehead against Herzog's. Carefully, he raised a hand and dried her tears with his thumb:

"It wasn't worth it…"é Agnes mumbled, unable to look Herzog in the eye.

And he couldn't help but rejoice; Agnes hadn't only came back to him, she had also concluded she shouldn't stay away from him! He changed to a sitting position and the young archaeologist slipped to his lap:

"It's over." He said and stroked her cheek affectionately. "You are back, my offensive against the enemy was a success… we have time."

Agnes offered him a little smile. Half of her face was illuminated by the light coming through the closed blinds, and her eye on that half of her face was green. The other eye, on the half of her face where the light didn't reach, was dark brown. Herzog tilted his head to the right, approvingly, and allowed his eyes to move away a little from Agnes' face.

Indeed, she was small and fragile. She actually managed to look a bit bulky with her large manly clothes, but in underwear the thing was different. Herzog tilted his head to the other side; funny how she dressed mainly in dark colours but her underwear had colorful stripes. Anyway, he liked was he was seeing, and he took a while to admire the tattoos on her arms and neck, the way the barbed wire crawled and snaked, and how she was so pale he could see a few blue veins here and there, especially a little above her breasts. The scar on her ribcage managed to be paler than her skin, and that caught his attention for a moment.

Herzog felt his heart pounding again. And there was this throbbing sensation through all his body, and he swore he began to feel warm.

He noticed Agnes was starting to blush and concluded he had been staring for too long. He felt himself blush too and looked away:

"Speaking on time… what time is it?" He asked, hopefully sounding casual. Agnes reached out for her cell phone and frowned:

"2 p.m.!"

"That's it, I'm going to get dressed and make you lunch." Herzog decided. Then he narrowed his eyes. "And Agnes... aren't you cold? My men destroyed the power plant, the central heating shouldn't be working."

Reluctantly, Agnes moved away from his lap, then she smiled:

"I'm not cold... I guess I'm used to you, and I can't imagine something colder than you. Still, my central heating works with wood, not with electricity."

"Are you sure?"

"Hein, nowadays not everything works with electricity..." The young woman chuckled and, slowly, both of them stood up. Herzog allowed himself to look at Agnes a little longer:

"If you say so..." He grunted. "So the peasants didn't freeze in their houses..."

Agnes made a face:

"Hein..."

"I'll take care of that some other time!" The Nazi zombie hurried to explain, and smiled.

* * *

**Weeeee, review?**


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's note:** ah-a! A new chapter! :'D I'm so sorry for the late!

And thank you everybody for the reviews. :D Really, it makes my day!

* * *

Agnes was having lunch when her boss phoned her. Herzog didn't understand at all what they were talking about, but by the way the young woman was smiling, it was certainly good news:

"So..." She said once the phone call ended and went back to her lunch. "Thanks to someone, the museum will be closed for a few weeks until most of the mess that someone did is fixed. Those weeks are not to be discounted from my salary of January."

"I wonder who's that someone. Sounds like an interesting person." Herzog replied with a charming smile. "And you need food other than canned food."

"I know, I have to go shopping today... Tomorrow's New Year Eve and that's a horrible time for shopping." Agnes frowned a little. "I need to drive to another district..."

Herzog looked at his hands, feeling suddenly guilty because now it would be more difficult for Agnes to buy her stuff. He sighed; volunteering to go with her was the least he could do... no matter how much he had hated the last experience:

"I could drive you, Agnes. You look tired." The Nazi zombie said. Agnes nearly chocked and looked at him with big wide eyes:

"Hein Herzog, you want to go out with me? Like... camouflaged?"

"Yes, I must have hit my head last night..." He sighed, but smiled again.

* * *

Later, Herzog found himself covered in foundation and dressing the clothes that had belonged to Agnes' brother. He felt a little more comfortable this time, since he could hide the lower half of his face with the (quite ridiculous, in his opinion) purple scarf the young woman had wrapped around his neck. Despite the snow and the cold it was a sunny day, and Agnes had insisted that he wore her brother's sunglasses, because no normal human being would be able to drive properly with the sunlight reflecting on the snow:

"You look like a terrorist." Agnes commented from the passenger seat. Herzog rose a hairless eyebrow. "You drive like a terrorist..."

"These sunglasses make me think of Americans, and I don't like Americans. And I drive better than many people!"

"I wonder about Sascha's driving skills..."

"He doesn't even have a licence. I tried to teach him once, but he nearly got us killed." Herzog told. Agnes frowned. "Just kidding. He simply drove us against a tree. Maybe I should have started him with a car, and not with a truck..."

"Fine, I get it, he's worse than you." Agnes chuckled and went quiet. She had to admit that, even though the Standartenführer drove too fast and with zero respect for traffic lights and signals, she was enjoying being driven around.

After a 3 hours journey on the frozen Norwegian roads, and surprisingly without any incident, they finally found a supermarket. It was getting dark. Herzog managed to park the jeep without running over the people or the other cars, and Agnes had to admit she was still surprised with his brute yet efficient driving:

"You want to come with me?" She asked hopefully. Herzog shook his head reluctantly; he wanted to go with her... but at the same time the thought of being among the enemy and be unable to eliminate them was terrifying. Agnes patted his shoulder in a friendly way. "Yeah, I knew that... I'll be back in five minutes."

"Is it five minutes like in five minutes, or is it five minutes like the five minutes you take dressing?" Herzog asked, smiling under the scarf.

Agnes stuck her tongue out at him and left. Laughing, Herzog crossed his arms and took the chance to look around. He had noticed a few scattered cottages on their way to the supermarket, so if Agnes gave him a map of that district, Herzog could turn that area in a new possible target. If he and his troops left Øksfjord at 7 p.m and ran across the mountains... he grimaced; no, they wouldn't have time. They would have to move during the day, and then attack at night, and then move during the day again. Not that a battalion of Nazi zombies would be noticed roaming the mountains, but still the Standartenführer sighed sadly; maybe he should start considering getting his men vehicles...

After what felt like an eternity, Agnes finally left the supermarket with a bunch of bags and made her way to the jeep. Utterly bored, Herzog opened the door, came out of the jeep and opened the back doors of the jeep:

"Women..." He grumbled. Agnes didn't give him attention and placed the bags in the space between the two side seats in the back of the jeep. They got in the jeep again and Herzog drove them home.

* * *

Holding a cup of hot chocolate, Agnes sat in the puff next to Herzog and leaned against him:

"Your inability to shoot someone in a computer game amuses me." She said with a smile and sipped a little of her steamy drink. Herzog frowned when his character was shot and «game over» danced before his eyes in red letters:

"I'm a good shooter with a real weapon, with a real target, and in a real war scenario..." He replied annoyedly and put Agnes' laptop aside. He then wrapped an arm around her shoulders and nuzzled the top of her head, enjoying the smell of the shampoo she wore. They spent a while in silence, Agnes drinking her hot chocolate contently and Herzog happily messing her hair with his nose, until the young woman decided to tell him a little about her field work and make the moment less awkward, because they hadn't talked about their argument about Erik. Yet. Nor about their situation. Yet. However, to be honest, Agnes felt like they would never mention the subject again:

"I found some really pretty pottery, they call it «terra sigillata», and amphorae, and a few spear heads." Agnes told. Herzog stopped nuzzling her head and looked at her curiously. "But what I liked the most was the structures. Can you believe how organized Roman military sites were? And working with the «open area» method is so practical and easier! And I worked with a pickaxe, and not with a tiny trowel!"

"Poor Romans, ending up as those lazy Italians..." Herzog grumbled then frowned and added, reluctantly, because he didn't want to know the answer, but at the same time wanted to know what had happened. "How... how's Berlin, nowadays?"

The young archaeologist paused, thinking; unlike the other archaeologists, she hadn't gone for long walks in the city during the free times, she had simply locked herself in her room. Yet she had seen enough on her way to the inn:

"It's... standing. With no buildings destroyed by bombings..." Agnes resumed and drank her hot chocolate. Herzog wouldn't really like to know that the Reichstag and the Gestapo headquarters were no more, and that the bunkers and the Flaktürme were abandoned. And she surelly wasn't going to tell him about the different kind of people who lived in Berlin. "But... I presume that, just like your music, you would like to remember Berlin the way it was in your days, right?"

"You make that sound ominous, Agnes..." Herzog's frown grew bigger, but he shook his head and smiled; Berlin was the least of his problems, now. "Dietrich got a new look, in the meantime."

Agnes' turn to frown and she placed the now empty cup of hot chocolate on the floor:

"Now you make it sound ominous, Hein..." She clapped her hands enthusiastically. "I want to visit the guys!"

"Tomorrow. You should be sleeping already. And you shouldn't have drank that, chocolate-"

"-doesn't take my sleep, stop picking on my chocolate!"

* * *

It was a stormy New Year Eve morning, but that didn't stop Agnes from dragging Herzog out of the bed and go all the way up the mountain to meet the Nazi battalion.

On their way up, and in spite of ocasionall playful punches and pushes between them, the young woman couldn't help but remember the day Herzog had planned to kill her, and the day he had finally caught Erik and the annoying ex-policeman. By the slight frown on his face, Agnes could tell Herzog probably remembered that too. Yet there they were, like nothing had happened. Agnes dared to take a hand out of her jacket pocket and stretch it towards Herzog. And even though she had gloves, she could feel the cold biting her hand.

Herzog rose a hairless eyebrow and held hands with her. He had no gloves, and somehow his hand managed to feel colder than the air around them:

"Really Agnes, you want to freeze?" A voice asked behind them. Herzog and Agnes came to a halt and glanced behind, to see Sascha's head coming out of the snow, and with a smile of epic proportions on his face. "Did you really think that you'd manage to climb up there, with this weather? And you, Herr Standartenführer, don't you realize how cold it is, today?"

"How did you-" Herzog began to ask, politely ignoring the question and mentally cursing himself because no, he had no idea of how cold it was. He was wearing a t-shirt under the leather jacket that had belonged to Agnes' brother:

"Fritz saw you a while ago. You know, even though he's short he can run really fast."

"I'm a head shorter than you, big deal!" Fritz complained as his head emerged from the snow. Agnes laughed and trotted towards them. Fritz rose from the snow and, when she was close enough, he pulled her hood down to cover her eyes. "Acnes!"

"Asshole..." She mumbled and pulled the hood back to place. Sascha emerged from the snow too. And then all the other zombies did the same. Herzog blushed; so his men had been watching him and Agnes, the little sneaky bastards... He cast Sascha an ugly frown, and the Ordonnanz winked at him in return.

After greeting Sascha and Fritz Agnes looked around... and noticed Dietrich. She widened her eyes:

"Holy shit, what happened to your stick?" She asked and trotted to the grey-eyed zombie. Even though the stick was missing, the daydreaming expression and the little smile were still there. Ignoring the bloodstains on Dietrich's uniform, Agnes hugged him:

"I want a hug too!" Sascha exclaimed. Herzog decided to sit on the snow and cross his legs, because that was going to be funny to watch:

Dietrich patted Agnes' head awkwardly, looking at Konrad and waiting for instructions. Kornad offered him one of his rare genuine smiles and shrugged:

"Your problem..." He replied. Dietrich rolled his eyes; that wasn't useful:

"The stick was burned alive. He's in peace, now. The gauze and the bandage are not that talkative like he was, though..." The grey-eyed zombie told. "And... you'll get blood all over you..."

"I want a huuuuug..." Sascha said again. A choir of zombies growled that they wanted a hug, too. And the next think Agnes knew was that there were dead people hugging her, being extremelly careful not to bleed on her. Of course that Sascha and Fritz couldn't care less about it...

After having his hug, Sascha approached Herzog and sat on the snow next to him:

"Seems she forgot the peasant." The blonde-haired zombie commented. Herzog shrugged:

"Apparently... I hope we won't have to talk about it..." Herzog sighed. "Today's New Year Eve and yesterday I drove her to the nearest supermarket, in another district, and I think the area is a good target; there are a lot of isolated cottages and-"

"You're quite workaholic, aren't you?" Sascha asked amusedly. "You should be thinking about asking her to marry you! Come on, we've just practically destroyed the little town down there, we're more than avenged!"

"No, we are not..." Herzog grumbled. He looked at his soldiers, happily hugging Agnes. "But you are right, I should be more concerned about her..."

"You're getting married?"

"I haven't even... hm..."

"Asked her to be your girlfriend... damn it, you're slow..."

"That sounds childish..." Herzog blushed and decided to build a little pile of snow to stop himself from slapping Sascha's grin off his face. "And we can't marry, there isn't any Oberführer* to preside the ceremony..."

"I can to that for you!" Sascha burst out laughing. "You're amazing, Herzog! You keep running away from it!" Herzog cast the blonde-haired zombie a mighty frown. "Just go for it, you damned man; she's still here and she already told you she loves you, what else do you need?"

Herzog simply looked back to his little pile of snow, embarassed, and began to think. He hated when Sascha was obviously right and he had nothing to answer back.

* * *

"You stink to frozen corpses and old blood." Herzog commented amusedly as they made their way down the mountain. Agnes punched his arm, not that it affected him:

"Don't you too, Hein?"

"No, I had a bath." The Standartenführer laughed. "I liked how Konrad had no idea of what to do with you."

"I liked how Sascha and Fritz sandwiched me and nearly smashed me, and you couldn't care less."

"They wouldn't smash you... And I liked how the Doctor hid and how you ignored him."

"And I liked how Klaus asked you permission to hug me." Agnes laughed when Herzog punched her arm and nearly made her lose her ballance; he had been tempted to tell the Rottenführer he was not allowed to have any kind of contact with Agnes... but then the young woman would certainly be upset with his behaviour:

"And I liked how everybody did their best not to bleed on you. My troops are real gentlemen." Herzog puffed his chest a little, proudly. Agnes grimaced:

"Everybody but Fritz and Sascha... that bastard, look what he did to my face!"

"Call it «art»." And Herzog burst out laughing. Sascha had drawn a swastika on one of Agnes' cheek with his blood. "You should have seen it coming when you hugged Dietrich, my men are used to democracy."

"Your jokes are worse than Sascha's..."

When they made it home it was little past lunch time, it started to snow violently and Agnes went straight to the bathroom to shower. Herzog went to the bedroom to change clothes and found that Agnes had left the wardrobe open.

The Herzog in the mirror looked at the Herzog standing before it. The Standartenführer tilted his head from one side to the other, examining his face; stupid shrapnel... He undressed the leather jacket and the t-shirt and tilted his head again, looking at the scars across his muscles.

Maybe Sascha was right.

That seemed a nice way to start a new year...

And after all those years... he deserved that, didn't he?

And Agnes would like it... probably.

* * *

"Usually there are fireworks, but I guess this year won't be any." Agnes commented while eating dinner; usually she didn't care much about it, but now that Herzog was there, she actually would like to have something nice to do with him. Watching the fireworks sounded like a great idea, but thanks to the Nazi zombies that year the entire nation was mourning the victims of the «terrorist» attacks.

And for some reason Herzog was nervous. He had been nervous since they got home, and Agnes couldn't figure out why. She had tried to ask him, but the dead Nazi leader had been extremely evasive. Now, with Agnes' empty dish between them and Herzog staring at her from across the table, with that damned poker-face of his... the young woman was starting to feel slightly irritated.

She sighed:

"I'm going to brush my teeth and then you're going to tell me why the heck you are nervous." She said and stood up. Herzog grumbled something like «I'm not nervous...».

Agnes made her way to the bathroom and closed the door. She looked herself on the small mirror over the washbasin and considered puting on make-up and some pretty clothes and convince Herzog to call his soldiers and throw a New Year party in the clearing in front of her house. She began to brush her teeth and frowned; she couldn't really picture Herzog in a party, and it was damn cold outside, and if the Einsatzgruppe was quite... restless... in a normal situation, giving those guys the chance to party would be like feeding an hyperactive child with coffee and chocolate. Well, feeding many hyperactive children...

Nope, no party. Agnes undid the side-braid and combed her dark copper-hair. She grimaced; it looked boring, she was definitely getting blue locks on her hair. Yes, that sounded like a great way to start a new year...

She opened the door and came out of the bathroom, only to bump on Herzog. She looked up at him, to his perfect poker-face:

"So, are you going to tell me what's going on or-" She didn't finish the sentence; Herzog cupped her face with his hands and kissed her... or bit her. Or simply smashed her mouth against his. Agnes widenened her eyes in surprise (and pain) when she felt Herzog's harsh and frostbitten lips and his exposed teeth pressing on her lips. It wasn't really the best first kiss, and all things considered it wasn't really the best way to kiss... but the young woman couldn't care less.

Agnes closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around Herzog's neck. He moved his hands to her hips and broke the «kiss», looking at her expectantly. He swore his heart was about to jump off his chest. She smiled and nuzzled his nose affectionately. He cleared his throat with a gutural sound and tapped his fingers nervously on her hips:

"Ohne dich kann ich nicht sein**." (I can't be without you.) He said. Or better, he whispered shyly, making a huge, huge effort to look Agnes in the eye. "Ich liebe dich." (I love you.)

Agnes smiled so widely she was sure at any moment her lips would chap. For a moment she forgot how to say it in German, even though she had just heard it. A few happy tears crowded in the corner of her eyes, because finally!, that big fearless dead man had gathered enough courage to talk about it:

"Ich liebe dich, auch." (I love you, too.) She replied and pressed her lips on his, carefully avoiding his teeth.

Herzog let out a gutural growl, feeling a sudden wanting and need that hadn't been there before. He moved to nible one of Agnes' ears, and held the piercings that came across his way with his teeth. Slowly, he began to walk backwards, to the bedroom, and hopefully he would manage to keep the seductive mood and lead them to the bedroom without bumping on anything and make the situation ridiculous. Agnes smiled, slid her hands down his torso and slipped them under his t-shirt.

The Standartenführer sucessfully leaded them to the bedroom and kicked the door closed, now very entretained biting and licking the place where Agnes' neck met her shoulder. His breath, his teeth and his tongue were freezing but Agnes was sure the goose bumps all over her body had nothing to do with cold. She managed to pull his t-shirt off and started to run her hands up and down his torso, tracing his scars with her index finger. He growled again.

Somehow (Herzog later swore he didn't do it) Agnes' t-shirt vanished at some point and they fell on the inflatable mattress, and Agnes had to admit that in spite of not being a skilled kisser, Herzog was actually very good at biting. And at scratching. And the young woman considered yelping when he gripped her thigh too hard, but she knew that if she said anything that would drain that sudden courage away from him.

And Agnes could live with a couple of bruises.

Some biting later and Herzog's trousers and Agnes' shorts were nowhere to be seen. While his teeth and tongue were still very interested on her neck, ears and piercings, his hands were becoming bolder and the young woman felt that her bra became lose. He rolled on top of her, his massive weight making it difficult for her to breathe and _maybe_ it was getting a little too cold for her liking.

She wanted to do something besides just caressing him and scratching his back, so she took a tentative bite on his shoulder. He grunted and bit her harder, and Agnes concluded that even though his skin was soft and all of that... a dead man's shoulder wasn't particullarly nice to bite. She would stick with kissing him, that sounded like a good idea and he would certainly enjoy it. Then the young woman noticed her bra was gone and that sooner or later Herzog would bite off part of her neck. She felt his nails dig deeper in the soft skin on her back and well, _now_ the whole thing was starting to feel uncomfortable:

"Hein?" Agnes called, perfectly aware that she would ruin the moment but damn it, those tattoos had been expensive and she wanted them _on her neck_. He bit all the way up her neck, jaw, chin and caught her lower lip between his teeth, fixing his blue eyes on her hazel eyes, clearly enjoying the moment. Agnes' eyes were dark brown, and that only encouraged him to bite her lip. "Can you... not bite my neck off...?"

Herzog blinked his eyes, slowly, as his brain took a little to understand what had happened. Then he frowned, let go of Agnes' lip and pushed himself up, and looked at Agnes' practially naked body like she had grown two heads. The young woman hurried to try to save the situation:

"It's just that the tattoo work was expensive and I like my tattoos and I like what you're doing but-"

"I can't give you children!" He exclaimed suddenly:

"-please don't bite my tattoos off and-_what_?"

"I can't give you children." Herzog repeated a little lower this time, and somehow he suddenly looked smaller and not that bulky anymore. Agnes' turn to take a little to understand what had happened. Then she widened her eyes:

"Oh." Yet she smiled and shrugged, wrapping her arms around Herzog's neck and pulling him down. He didn't move, though. "It's fine. Just... don't bite my neck off."

Herzog still didn't move but his eyes were widening slowly, like he usually did when realising something was wrong. Agnes sighed and changed to a sitting position, to be able to stay at the same level as the Standartenführer. She pressed her lips on the uninjured half of his mouth and he clumsily attempted to kiss her back.

* * *

"We need booze, a party isn't a party with no booze!" One of the Wehrmacht soldiers exclaimed. Sascha shook his head:

"Nope, good old Herzog showed us parties are way funnier when there's no booze involved. You see, everyone's aware of each other's silliness." He chuckled. "But we could use some music..."

"And pretty women!" Another Wehrmacht soldier exclaimed:

"And food!" Fritz exclaimed sadly. "There's no such thing as a party without food!"

"We could sculpture food with snow!" Michael suggested and Dietrich looked hopefully to Konrad, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with him. The blue-eyed zombie shook his head, slowly. Dietrich rolled his only eye, annoyed:

"I know, I know!" Sascha said suddenly. "We can fight!" An approving roar echoed through the cave, in spite of Rottenführer Bergen's attempts to make the soldiers decline that idea. "I need a worthy opponent!"

"Make your bets, gentlemen!" Fritz exclaimed. Michael tried to stand up, only to be pulled down by the rest of the tank crew. Konrad sneered and stood up:

"I'm a worthy opponent!" He said. Dietrich frowned, mouthing «Are you mad?», and Sascha burst out laughing:

"You're getting your ugly nose broken again!"

"I was a semi-professional boxer, during my highschool years!" Konrad warned. Sascha just shrugged:

"And I was Herzog's punching bag and eventually learned something."

The Nazi zombies moved outside, to the snowstorm, and made a circle around the two fighting soldiers. Dietrich remained in the cave, alone and pouted, telling his bandage and gauze that Konrad was out of his mind. Maybe because Dietrich knew that, no matter how good Konrad was, he didn't have a chance against Sascha. Because Sascha didn't have the slightest idea of how to fry an egg... but when it came to fighting, he was the best. Especially after being Herzog's «punching bag». So the grey-eyed soldier just waited, listening to the excited growls outside and the sound of the wind howling into the stone corridor of the cave, until finally the fuss moved into the cave again and, just as Dietrich expected, Sascha dropped an uncounscious Konrad next to him:

"I'm a good friend and I didn't aim to his nose!" The victorious zombie exclaimed, proudly, licking the blood coming from a little cut in his lower lip. With all the blood constantly dripping from his mouth, nobody would notice the new wound, though. "Guess he never made it to a professional boxer, right?"

"He joined the Waffen, instead." Dietrich told and shrugged; _Kon wasn't good enough to compete in a professional level, but I guess nobody needs to know about that._ Sascha nodded, slowly:

"Little Konrad's a little too arrogant sometimes." He said amusedly, because one of Sascha's favourite hobbies was to teach haughty people a lesson. Then the blue-eyed zombie looked around, smiling widely and showing his blood-stained teeth. "I want another worthy oponent! **Worthy**!"

"Me!" Fritz volunteered and elbowed Sascha, who faked a stumble:

"Shit, midget!"

"Call me that again, I dare you."

"Miiiiiiiiidgeeeeeet!" Sascha sang happily and ran outside. Fritz followed him. The other zombies just shrugged because well, that was just typical Sascha and Fritz behaviour. With a lot of satisfied grunts due to the brief combat they had witnessed and with a few soldiers still commenting on the fight, the Nazi zombies sat or laid on their usualy spots. The tank crew began a card game.

Konrad opened one eye, slowly, and the first thing he saw was Dietrich looking at him, utterly annoyed:

"That tricky fucker... shit, my head..." The soldier with the broken nose grumbled:

"I thought you had given up on boxing, after failing that exam." Dietrich commented casually and started to play with his dagger. Konrad frowned:

"You-"

"-didn't tell them about it, of course not!" The grey-eyed zombie looked at his comrade, aggrieved. Konrad sighed and changed to a sitting position. He touched the side of his head, where Sascha had given him a brutal blow with the side of his fist, and thanked mentally for being dead and being unable to feel pain:

"You didn't go out to-"

"-watch you being taken down in 5 minutes?" Dietrich smiled innocently. "I guess it became boring, after all those failed fencing lessons..."

"Shut up..." Konrad grunted and crossed his arms, pouting.

* * *

Sascha bolted out of the cave, laughing like a mad man, and headed to the slope behind the cave. Fritz followed him close, and when they were behind the cave the brown-eyed zombie jumped at his comrade's legs and they both fell forwards, laughing:

"Holy shit, the midget got me!" Sascha exclaimed and rolled over his back. Fritz smiled victoriously and crawled all the way up to Sascha's chest:

"You're too slow." He replied with a proud smile but yelped when Sascha held his wrists and rolled on top of him:

"You're too over-confident."

"And you love it, smartass."

"Bet I do, my little idiot."

* * *

Agnes noticed there was something heavy pinning her down to the mattress. Something _too heavy_. And cold. That had to be Herzog.

She opened her eyes and yes, Herzog was sleeping comfortably over her, both of his arms still wrapped tighly around her body and his big head hidden on the crook of her neck. Her neck throbbed a little and the young woman imagined the countless teeth marks among the barbed-wired tattoos, and the nail marks all over her body. She cast a hopeful look at Herzog's shoulders and neck, but there were no marks on him. Disappointing...

Still she smiled and kissed his uninjured cheek, right at the end of the wound crossing his eye:

"Hein?" She called softly. He grumbled something and tightened his grip around her. "Hein, you're smashing me!"

"Bullshit..." He replied sleepily and Agnes burst out laughing. He rolled to his side nonetheless, eyes still closed and still holding Agnes in an iron grip. The young woman made herself comfortable against his freezing naked body and traced an awkward scar on his shoulder:

"It's a brand new year, Hein!" She exclaimed excitedly. "I'm getting blue locks on my hair."

Herzog just grumbled something. Agnes rolled her eyes; by now she should have known Herzog always took a little to wake up properly. So she sighed and waited patiently, tracing spiraling patterns with her nails on his chest:

"Agnes?" He called little later, his eyes still closed and his growling voice hoarse:

"Hm?"

"Did you like it?" He asked shyly and opened one bright blue eye. Agnes smiled:

"If I hadn't, you'd be sleeping on the couch..." And she thought about telling him that he might have bitten and scratched a little too much, but maybe she should leave it for another time:

"You don't have a couch..."

"The puffs, Hein..."

The Standartenführer just grunted contently and tightened his grip around her small and fragile body:

"Mine." He growled.

* * *

*the rank above Standartenführer. Weddings among the SS were presided by the commanding officer of the groom or by someone with a higher rank than the one of the guy that's getting married.

**from Rammstein's song "Ohne dich" (listen to it, it's beautiful...)

**Weeee, review?**


	37. Chapter 37

**Author's note:** thanks so much for the reviews! :D

And only one more chapter to go! ;-;

* * *

For a month, Herzog was actually content with his homely routine; wake up with Agnes next to him, make her breakfast, kiss her goodbye and wish her a good day at the museum, spend the rest of the day alone at home reading German archaeology articles or playing in her laptop, make Agnes dinner and have it ready when she came back, go to bed.

For Agnes everything was perfect; she had never felt that happy before and she was sure that, now that there was this thing between her and Herzog, he would finally settle down and stay safely at her place. The young woman absolutely loved to go back home and find him there, waiting, asking her if she had had a good day, making her feel wanted and important... Herzog basically made her _love_ her life!

But then Herzog began to feel bored, because he was used to live with the permanent excitement and adrenaline of war times, and useless, because while Agnes went out to work he had nothing interesting to do. He did enjoy all that intimacy, and he loved to listen to Agnes' heartbeat, and he really liked to make her feel good. Yet he wanted some war action...

So one morning, after the young archaeologist left, Herzog put on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a motorcycle jacket and combat boots and left. He had the keys; now that he was the whole day at home, Agnes didn't walk around with her keys anymore.

Herzog presumed that was a particularly rigorous winter, since the snow outside reached a little above his ankles. He took a moment to stay there, in front of the house, just inhaling the freezing air. Not that he needed it, but it was somehow comforting not to be surrounded by walls. With a content grunt, he walked to the woods and up the mountain, slowly and looking around like a child in an amusement park. He liked leafless trees, it reminded him of his time in the trenches in the Great War, and he had somehow learned to admire the beauty of scorched, dead leafless trees.

A raven cawed on the branches above him and Herzog stopped to look at the dark bird. The bird looked back at him, before spreading its wings and fly to another tree. The Standartenführer proceeded his way up the mountain, calmly, until he noticed someone walking to him:

"I thought I'd never see those beautiful eyes of yours again." Sascha said with a smile and came to a halt next to Herzog. "And those trousers make your ass look big."

"Watch your tongue, young man..." Herzog grunted and held Sascha's chin between his thumb and index finger. "What happened to your lip?"

"How did you even notice?" The blonde-haired zombie barked out a laugh. "You're doing it wrong, men of your age are supposed to lose sight!"

"I told you once my sight was fine, but as usual you didn't listen." The Standartenführer smiled and forced Sascha to tilt his head. "What happened?"

"A New Year party isn't a party without a fight, and I let Konrad hit me before knocking him out."

Herzog rolled his eyes and let go of Sascha's chin. The younger soldier chuckled and placed a friendly hand on Herzog's broad shoulder, rising an inquiring eyebrow. Herzog just smiled, a genuine smile, and that was all Sascha needed to know. The blonde-haired zombie smiled back and they walked together to a nearby rock outcrop and sat on a large, dark rock:

"I'm bored, Sascha..." Herzog confessed and his smile died, slowly, and the Standartenführer looked at his boots. "I think I can't stay quiet in the same place for long..."

Sascha frowned and looked at his officer. When he had seen _that_ smile on Herzog's face, he had actually believed the good old Herzog he had known in 1938 was back, the innocent happy man who had believed blindly he would get married and keep on active duty like one thing wouldn't influence the other. Now, looking at Herzog's face, to all of the little wrinkles across it, to the tired expression of his eyes, Sascha realised Herzog would never be that innocent man again; the Standartenführer had just realised happiness wasn't that simple to achieve, and like the stubborn bastard he was, Herzog would keep on a restless quest for his ideal dream of hapinness. A quest that Sascha would do everything to stop, because Herzog's quests usually made him blind to the obvious reality around him.

It still amazed (and frightened) Sasha how such a brilliant mind in the battlefield was so dumb out of the theater of operations:

"Oh yes you can, old man!" The Ordonnanz exclaimed. "You have Agnes, you have the peasants terrified for the rest of their miserable lives and you have your troops by your side. There's nothing else to do besides enjoying your eternal life."

"How can I enjoy my eternal life sitting on a puff, alone in a house, doing absolutely nothing productive?" Herzog frowned and looked at the younger zombie. "We must gather and discuss a new attack, we have to smash those bastards before they reagroup and reorganize and receive reinforcements, we-"

"Geez, Herzog! What about Agnes?"

A moment of silence. Then Herzog shrugged:

"She's fine. Still working on the museum. In fact, tonight I'm going to ask her where the last box is and retrieving that box is going to be our priority before attacking anything else and-"

"Götter, **warum?**" (Gods, why?) Sascha wailed and looked up, to the cloudy sky. He unstrapped his helmet and pulled it off his head, then offered Herzog a pleading look. "You're worse than a fucking little child on Yule Eve! Can't you just sit down and relax, rest, whatever simillar to that? Are you annoyed by the fact that Agnes has a job?"

"I am proud of her!" Herzog exclaimed, aggrieved, and slapped Sascha's head. "I like useful and capable people! Agnes is useful and capable!"

"Then what's wrong with you? If you don't want to be alone at home, you can move your muscular ass over here and spend quality time with me and then go back home to Agnes! There, easy!"

"I hope that with «quality time» you mean «planning military operations of extreme importance»." Herzog grunted and crossed his arms. Sascha facepalmed and dragged his hand down his face, exasperatedly. He then kneeled in front of Herzog and began to speak, slowly, like the older soldier was a very, very, very dumb child:

"Herzog, old friend, all my fucking life I wanted to see you happy. COMPLETELY happy. You were just half-happy with us, because you wanted to get married. You didn't get married and continued your miserable existence half-happy, or maybe just one third-happy. Do you think I enjoyed dying knowing you weren't completely happy?" Sascha held Herzog's forearms and shook him, slowly. "Now you have your only chance to be COMPLETELY happy, and you are about to throw it away like the little idiot you always are when you realise you'll have to stay away from the battlefield! I am not letting you do that! Never again! I'll tell Agnes to use her archaeological powers to hide all of our weapons because, if she can find, I'm sure she can hide stuff too!"

"And tell me, genius, how am I going to be COMPLETELY happy not being a soldier?"

"Being a goddamned husband!"

"I can be a husband and a soldier at the same time!"

"Have you talked about this with Agnes?"

"No..."

Sascha sighed tiredly and shook Herzog again:

"Herzog... you were willing to get married and leave your wife and children behind-"

"If the ordinary soldier did it, so why shouldn't I?"

"-but now you have no reasons to leave Agnes' side!" Sascha paused and his blue eyes met Herzog's. "I understand the military was your life... but now you have a chance for something different, you're one lucky bastard! Go for it!"

"I can have Agnes and I can have my troops." Herzog concluded annoyedly. Sascha groaned and let go of the Standartenführer's arms. He stood up, shaking his head, and sat beside Herzog on the rock. "By no means I'll leave my men behind!"

"If that's the problem, you can either take us to Agnes' place or you can bring her to our place!" Sascha clapped his hands. "Then we can all live happily and peacefully and it must be really funny to see you and Agnes kiss because of the height differance! I bet she needs a ladder!"

Herzog burst out laughing, because the thought of Agnes needing a ladder to kiss him was amusing and also because he didn't want Sascha to understand he still had no idea of how, where and when he was going to kill Agnes... and he didn't want to give Sascha another reason to be lectured about.

* * *

"Can you find me a map of Europe, with Russia included?" Herzog asked Agnes when she laid next to him and began to trace circle-like patterns with her nails on his chest. She nodded, obviously more interested in the mass of muscles and scars before her than in Herzog's need for a map. "Gut. When?"

"What is the map for?" Agnes sighed and looked up at his face. He had a little smile and the young woman moved closer to kiss him. He wrapped an arm around her waist:

"To better plan a new big offensive!" Herzog explained innocently and closed his eyes... but the kiss never came.

The Standartenführer cracked one eye open, curiously, just to see Agnes looking at him with narrowed eyes:

"What do you mean with that? Wasn't that last attack your big offensive?" The young woman asked and changed to a sitting position. Herzog remained lying on his back and nodded, slowly. "So... you'll just leave again?"

"I just have to finish the rest of the peasants! And then I thought my troops and me could attack that other district you went shopping to, the lonely cottages are a perfect target! And after that I would have enough «volunteers» to launch a campaign to conquer the entire country, which would give me more «volunteers» to proceed in a Blitzkrieg operation through Sweden and Finland, and that would allow me to invade those Bolshevik bastards by the back and catch them off guard, and it wouldn't take me long to conquer Moscow and-"

"Are... are you serious?" Agnes laughed nervously, not sure if he was just joking or actually being serious. She had already noticed Herzog wasn't very fond of staying quiet for a long time... but now they had a relationship, a thing, whatever!, they hadn't discussed the terms yet, she wanted the Standartenführer by her side... not trying to take over Norway, and then the rest of Europe!:

"Of course I am, mein Schatz! But first my men and I are going to retrieve that last box! It's on the second floor of the museum, right?" Herzog replied animatedly and raised his hand to fondle Agnes' cheek. Yet she slapped his hand away:

"I thought you were going to stay with me!" She complained. Herzog frowned:

"Of course I'll stay with you! When I'm not fighting to achieve complete victory!"

And that was how Herzog ended up sleeping on the puffs.

* * *

The next morning Agnes left without a word, and little after she left Herzog dressed the same clothes of the day before and made his way up the mountain. This time he only found Sascha when he reached the cave; the Ordonnanz was standing at the entrance, with his hands behind his back, and he happily trotted towards Herzog when the Standartenführer approached the cave:

"Trouble in paradise?" The blonde-haired zombie asked. Herzog made a face and shoved his hands into the pockets of the jeans:

"She made me sleep on the couch! I mean, the big pillows in the living room." Herzog told. Sascha burst out laughing hysterically and chocked on his own blood. He kept laughing and spitting blood and eventually fell on his knees. The Standartenführer looked around, embarassed. "I honestly don't know _why_ I keep talking to you!"

"Because you like me and you know one of my favourite hobbies is laughing!" Sascha coughed blood, chuckled and stood up. He looked at Herzog and burst out laughing again.

A couple of minutes later, when Sascha was calmer, both zombies made their way to Herzog's little chamber and sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the field bed. Herzog crossed his arms and frowned:

"I told her about my plans and then she was suddenly mad at me! She started to yell and to hit me with the pillow and said I was going to sleep on the puffs!" Herzog complained, completely oblivious to what had enfuriated the small and fragile woman to the point of granting her the hability to expulse him from the bed. "I don't understand, Agnes was supposed to be glad! Women are glad when their men go to the battlefield! Glad and proud!"

"Well, Agnes isn't." Sascha giggled and did his best not to laugh again. "Being in a relationship isn't like commanding an Einsatzgruppe; it can't be all you want."

"Excuse me, I've always asked for my soldiers' opinion and-"

"Yeah yeah, but in a relationship there isn't a commander and a subordinate, Herzog! In a relationship you share the power and most of times you don't do everything you want, because you have to think about your better half!" Sascha explained patiently. "For example, if you attacking the peasants makes Agnes unhappy, so don't do it! She'll be happy and you won't have to sleep on the..." the rest of the phrase was lost in a bad contained laugh. Herzog narrowed his eyes:

"You do everything you want, no matter what Fritz says!" He accused. Sascha's laugh died and he narrowed his eyes too:

"I'm kinky, and that's none of your business, and most of times it's _me_ doing everything that little idiot wants!"

"You, my friend, are an hypocrite! You tell me to do everything you don't!"

"Hey hey, it's not like that! I told you to tell Agnes you love her, and then I went straight to Fritz and told him I love him." Sascha puffed his chest proudly. "And it's just like they say; «do as I say not as I do»!"

Herzog rose a hairless eyebrow... and yet again he had to admit that, if Sascha had given him good advise in the past, so he could keep giving him good advise. He sighed tiredly:

"So, what do I do?"

"You forget about the peasants."

"And what if I plan a brilliant final blow?"

"But you are stubborn! Well, if you plan a final blow, within some months you'll be planning another one!"

Herzog's shoulders slumped; Sascha was right... The Standartenführer shook his head helplessly:

"I can't do this, Sascha. I can't stay away from my troops." He grumbled.

The younger soldier opened his mouth to yell at the other zombie, because if Herzog was admiting defeat, so it meant the Ragnarök was coming and Sascha hadn't had fun enough to witness the end of times, and to stop the end of times and have fun for a little longer, he had to stop Herzog from admiting defeat. The point was... he couldn't. Herzog was right. Herzog without his troops would be only a half-happy Herzog again, and Sascha didn't want that. Yet Herzog with his troops would upset Agnes, and an upset Agnes was a bad thing.

Sascha let out a barrage of profanity and for a brief moment wished Herzog had died once and for all; at least he would stay quiet and have his well-deserved rest:

"So you better find a very good excuse for Agnes on how you can't chose between her and us!" Sascha grumbled; he really needed to think about something else to tell Herzog, otherwise the Standartenführer was doomed to forever sleep on the puffs... or probably being kicked out from the young woman's place.

* * *

Agnes had a bad day; loud tourists with loud children, her boss showed up to informe her that her salary was going to decrease because the museum didn't have enough tourists and she would have to come up with some interesting event to bring more people to the museum. Also, she nearly went off the road due to the ice on the asphalt... twice... and at the second time she hit her head on the wheel and opened a little cut on her forehead. And it was damn cold, in spite of her polar clothes, and her blue locks needed a re-paint that would recquire Herzog's assistance.

Not to mention how frustrated and sad and angry she was because she couldn't keep Herzog quiet. Was she that boring? Didn't he want to stay with her? And the day he (finally) killed her, would she find herself alone in that dark, humid cave because he was too entretained playing WWII with his troops?

With an annoyed sigh, she finally found herself before the door of her house. She knocked at the door and almost didn't need to wait before Herzog opened the door and pulled her inside. And maybe he was holding her arm with a little too much strenght:

"How was your day, mein Schatz?" He asked with a charming smile. Or an attempt of a charming smile. Agnes looked at him for a moment, blinking her eyes slowly, then frowned:

"Compared to your glorious plans for victory, my day isn't worthy of being voiced." The young woman replied and shook her arm, trying to release from his grip. However by now she should know that Herzog didn't let go of what he laid his hands on...:

"I'm sorry about yesterday..." He mumbled and finally released her arm. He watched as she undressed the snow jacket and toed off her boots. "But it is my duty to-"

"What are we, Hein?" Agnes interrupted annoyedly and crossed her arms, not really in the mood to listen to his avenging musings. He hesitated and widened his blue eyes a little, and that only made the young archaeologist angry, really angry. She even opened her mouth to yell at him because damn!, they had a relationship... thing... whatever!, they hadn't sorted it out yet, and instead of worrying about that, Herzog was more interested in happily proceeding his killing spree. Seemed Agnes could add «the object of my affections apparently prefers his frozen stinky dead troops over me» to the crappy happenings of her bad day. That hurt, a lot. Agnes thought about telling him that maybe Erika had done the right thing, because afterall it had been all his fault, but he spoke before she did:

"What happened to your head? How did you got that?" And before she could notice he had dragged her to the bathroom and was carefully cleaning the cut on her forehead with a cotton ball soaked in oxygenated water.

And Agnes just sighed tiredly, all anger replaced by sorrow; she didn't want another argument and another fight with Herzog, that would only be another reason for him to leave. Seemed she would have to live with the fact that, no matter all the pretty things he whispered at her ear, she was not his priority:

"Slippery road... I hit my head on the wheel..." She explained with a shrug. Herzog frowned:

"I can drive you to the museum and pick you up again to bring you home." He volunteered. "I don't want you to have an accident, mein Schatz!"

"It's fine..." She sighed again and when he was done cleaning the cut she went to the bedroom to change clothes.

* * *

Herzog knew he had messed up. He was absolutely sure of that when, in the next day, Agnes came home and gave him a pile of printed papers with maps of that area and the security system of the museum. The Standartenführer was momently too excited to remember he had messed up, so he dared to ask Agnes about that map of Europe with Russia included.

Agnes yelled at him something about him being shot down before even reaching Oslo, and even if he managed to sucessfully cross Norway, Sweden and Finland he would be shot down by the Russian army; or worse, he would be taken to some sort of Kasputin Yar for weird terrestrial stuff. Herzog then told her how he was sadly shocked with her lack of trust on his military genius, and that granted him another night in the puffs.

Herzog began to hate those puffs with a passion, so on the following day, a Saturday, he decided to get his spot in the air mattress again by making Agnes breakfast and ask her why she was so upset about his new military operation.

And so, carrying a tray with toasts and a mug of chocolate milk, Herzog sneaked into Agnes' bedroom, placed the tray on the floor, sat at the edge of the mattress and shook her by the shoulder, a bad habit he hadn't lost yet:

"Engel, wach auf." (Angel, wake up.) He said. Agnes was sleeping with her back turned at him and she stirred. Slowly, the young woman turned around and cast Herzog an utterly annoyed look:

"What?" She grumbled. The Standartenführer frowned and tilted his head:

"You've been crying. Why?"

"Oh, but you not only are emotionally constipated sometimes! Your reasoning is affected, too!" Agnes exclaimed tiredly and changed to a sitting position. Of course she had been crying, she had spent the entire night thinking on a way to convice Herzog to at least give up on his crazy idea of leaving that area and take over Scandinavia and Russia. What had made her cry was that she didn't know if he would answer the way she expected him to... The young woman crossed her arms and looked at that pair of blue eyes that had fascinated her from the beginning. "Hein, if you want to proceed your glorious military campaigns, I don't understand why you're wasting your time with me-"

"I love you!" He exclaimed immediately and straightened his back:

"-so the thing is: you either give up on that crazy idea of yours of leaving this area, or you can dress your uniform and get out of my life once and for all." Agnes paused, watching him wide his eyes in sheer horror. She just couldn't figure out what terrified him so much; if having to stay quiet, if letting her go. She bit her lower lip and added. "I want a partner, Hein. I want someone to be here with me. I don't want to be left alone in that cave up there. I helped you to get more soldiers and to kill the men who killed your men. I didn't even mention Erik again." Herzog flinched and snarled lowly. "I simply let you in my life... but in situations like this I wonder if you let me in yours. Not that you're alive anymore, but..."

She just sighed and looked down. She felt tired.

Herzog looked at her, speechless, and after her words sank he imagined Sascha making a face and yelling at him for being so stupid and selfish and the ultimate tard. His imaginary Sascha was very, very angry. And right, because damn Sascha, he was always right! And now the imaginary Sascha was yelling everything the real Sascha had told him the last time they had met. And again, Sascha was right; seemed Herzog couldn't do everything he wanted.

What surprised him the most was how quickly he accepted that. It could only mean he actually had real feelings for that small, fragile and miraculously patient young woman. With a sigh, Herzog crawled to Agnes, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down, so that she was half-lying on top of him:

"Very well, I'll resume my warfare to this area." He said. The young archaeologist widened her hazel eyes. "You have my word. But I won't take responsabilities if my «volunteers» accidentally invade the rest of the country, and then Sweden, and then Finland, and then Russia."

"You're just helpless..." Agnes laughed and rested her chin on his chest. "Big dead goof..."

"A big dead goof helplessly in love with you." He started to stir her hair, affectionately.

* * *

Fritz raised his hand and bit a smile that was spreading on his lips. Little later Sascha's head emerged from the tunnel the blue-eyed zombie was digging to connect his post to Fritz's. When the blonde head appeared, Fritz slapped it with all of his strenght, sending Sascha face-first into the snow.

The blue-eyed zombie cursed and ran a hand through his messy hair:

"Stupid..." He grumbled. Fritz stuck his tongue out at him. "I feel like talking."

"I'm all ears."

"I know." Sascha crawled to the snow den that was Fritz's post and laid on his back, resting his head on his comrade's legs. "I'm worried about Herzog, he's messing up things with Agnes again. You know Fritz, when I noticed how much he liked her, I thought he would finally calm down... that we all would be safe. But no! That big bald bastard became even bolder! I know there's no better commander than him... but what if something goes wrong? If something happens to him, we're dead! I don't want to die again Fritz, that one time was enough!"

"Tell him that." Fritz suggested and tried once more to tame Sascha's rebel hair. Sascha reached out for Fritz's helmet, on the ground next to them, and started to drum on it:

"I already told him to stay quiet, he came up with this talk on how he could have both Acney and his troops... and to be honest, I know that he would be extremely unhappy if he never fired a gun again. So, what do I do? I don't want to see the guy hurt again..."

"We could tell Agnes to forge information, like that all of a sudden the peasants fled." Fritz shrugged. "I'm sure he believes whatever she says."

"Yeah, little Acney is his informant." Sascha chuckled, but then he became extremely serious and widened his eyes. He changed to a sitting position, turned around and held Fritz by the shoulders. "That's _it_! Fritz, you're a fucking genius!"

"I'm a fucking genius!" The brown-eyed zombie nodded, even though he had no idea of why he was such a genius:

"Exactly! We kill Agnes and bring her up here! The moment she can't give Herzog precise information, he won't risk anymore! He's going to stay quiet!" Sascha shook Fritz by the shoulders. It all made sense; the moment Herzog had started to trust Agnes, he had shamelessly attacked the peasants in the heart of their territory. However, he just took his men to such a battlefield because he had an intelligence service. That taken away from him, he would never risk his troops like that again. Nor himself. Sascha knew the Standartenführer well enough to be sure about that.

But Fritz frowned:

"Kill our little Acney? We can't do that!" He said. Sascha's smile died and he narrowed his eyes:

"Oh yes we can! If we tell her that's the only way to keep Herzog quiet, she won't even think twice. She wants him around as much as we do, and in one piece."

"Herzog won't be pleased if we show up with Agnes' dead body..."

"No, he won't." Sascha admited and licked away the excess of blood dripping from his mouth. "But he took all these months to finally admit his feelings, so I'm guessing he'll take even more time to finally kill Agnes. In fact, I think he'll only do it when she starts to get wrinkles!" The blue-eyed zombie shook his head. "That's a lot of time with lots of dangerous information."

"But what will the others think, Sascha?" Fritz frowned and shrugged Sascha's hands off:

"They'll instantly agree with me, because they all know what happens if Herzog gets killed. Besides... the Reich is no more, remember? All those things Agnes told us... the world seems a pretty fucked up place right now. I don't want to waste my time with it-" Sascha smiled again and held Fritz's chin between his thumb and index finger. "-when there are more interesting things to do."

"So, how do we kill Agnes?"

"I talk to Herzog about how good it would be to have her around and in the meantime you hang Dietrich off the cliff! Then while Herzog is busy saving poor little Dietrich and lecturing Konrad for not taking care of him, you go tell Agnes she must die for the greater good!"

Both zombies nodded before such a brilliant plan.

* * *

Having Herzog's word on how he wouldn't leave the area actually reassured Agnes. They spent a nice and quiet weekend but, once she drove off to the museum, the Standartenführer hurried to run up the mountain with the plan and the alarm system of the museum. Once he crossed the forested area halfway up the moutain, Fritz jumped from the higher branches of a tree to the snow and went to look for Dietrich.

Herzog found Sascha sitting on a rock near the cave. The blonde-haired zombie rose an eyebrow:

"No more trouble in paradise?"

"I can plan a decent operation to retrieve the box from the museum!" Herzog announced, politely ignoring Sascha. He sat shoulder-to-shoulder with his Ordonnanz and showed him the papers he had brought. "The two of us could easily do this!"

"Taking me on a date, uh? Sounds good!"

So Herzog and Sascha started to discuss how to do it.

In the meantime, on the northen slope of the mountain, Fritz had just nicely asked Dietrich and Konrad to cooperate. Dietrich thought that hanging off the cliff with intestine-ropes wrapped around his waist sounded like a really cool thing. On the other hand, Konrad wasn't willing to be lectured by Herzog about something that wasn't even his fault! Fritz kept using his best arguments, but Konrad didn't really want to face an angry Herzog:

"Kon, come ooooon..." Dietrich mumbled when Fritz was about to give up and try his luck with the Panzer crew. The soldier with the broken nose punched his comrade's arm:

"No! I'm not doing that! I don't want to be lectured! Worse, what if the ropes break and you fall?"

"You always say I might fly away in windy days, so the wind will probably help me to land safely." Dietrich concluded innocently. Konrad groaned:

"But you are so stupid..."

"Kon, come on!"

"Yeah Kon, stop being sissy." Fritz teased.

Konrad made an ugly face, but he finally nodded, agreeing with Sascha's ridiculous plan.

At the same time Herzog was happily planning an assault to the museum, clueless of his soldiers' shenanigans. When he and Sascha finally had a plan, he decided to tell his Ordonnanz he had sucessfully convinced Agnes to allow him to proceeed his military operations... at least in that area. That was Sascha's cue to innocently ask Herzog:

"So, when are you going to kill her and move up here?" To which Herzog babbled a poor excuse of how he hadn't had time to think about it, and to which Sascha enumerated the various advantages of having a dead Agnes.

Sascha himself didn't know how he managed, but he sucessfully entretained Herzog for the whole day, and when it was starting to get dark, Fritz came running and stopped next to Herzog and saluted:

"Herr Standartenführer, Dietrich is hanging off the cliff." He announced. Herzog narrowed his eyes, incredulously:

"_Was_?"

"Konrad just asked me to call you, Herr Standartenführer."

Herzog sighed and stood up. Sascha stood up too:

"I'll go with you." He volunteered.

Both zombies walked away and, when they were out of sight and earing range, Fritz bolted down the mountain.

* * *

Agnes stopped her jeep, got out, made her way to the door, knocked... but no one answered. She frowned and knocked again. Nothing.

The lights were out. Herzog hadn't opened the door. He had probably gone visiting his troops. It started to snow, gently.

The young woman cursed and decided to get Herzog a copy of the keys, so things like this wouldn't happen again.

Then suddenly she heard steps and she looked at the woods, hopefully. But instead of Herzog it was Fritz who came from among the trees and trotted to her, smiling:

"Acnes!" He saluted:

"Asshole!" She stuck her tongue out, but hurried to hide the lower half of her face on her scarf again; it was too cold for her liking. "Where's Herzog?"

"Aw, Dietrich decided to hang out a little..." Fritz explained innocently and laughed. Agnes frowned a little, concerned, but Fritz winked reassuringly. "He's fine." Then he adopted a serious expression. "We need to talk. Sascha's been thinking, because he wants Herzog to be happy and quiet with you around... so you must die."

"I _WHAT_?" Agnes was so taken aback she even stepped back, suddenly afraid that Fritz would point his Luger at her and pull the trigger. But the brown-eyed zombie raised his hands, showing he wasn't going to hurt her:

"Exactly, Acnes! It's time to clear you!" Fritz giggled and Agnes rolled her eyes. "Now seriously... you have to die. If you don't, Herzog will keep asking information about the enemy, and you'll keep informing him because you're a really dumb couple, and he'll keep attacking the peasants and leaving you alone. And Sascha doesn't want him to eventually get shot down... and I'm sure you don't want that, too."

Agnes frowned; Herzog had first asked her to find him more men because he had a war to win. She knew the Russian zombies had been defeated. Then he had asked her to help him to avenge his men, and the elderly who had killed the Einsatzgruppe were now resting in a grave. And now Herzog was decided to get that other box and proceed his killing spree in that area... yet had apparently given up on his idea about Scandinavia and Russia.

The young woman widened her eyes, realisation hitting her clearer than ever. For a moment she just blinked her eyes, slowly, then cast Fritz a scared and hurried look:

"What do I do, now?" She whispered. Fritz shrugged:

"Ask him to kill you. Sascha asked Herzog when was he going to kill you." He smiled. "I'm sure you won't have a bloody and painful death like us! And being temporarily dead isn't that bad, it's like that stage of sleep when you're unconscious. And then you wake up... and keep on living! With the difference that your heart doesn't beat anymore, and you don't get tired, and you don't feel pain or temperature!"

Agnes nodded, slowly, and smiled shyly. That had been her goal, right? _Dying_. But now Herzog was there with her, and the people she considered friends lived on the top of the mountain, just a few hours away from her house, and she actually liked her job at the museum, in spite of being unable to make field work. So all things considered, life didn't seem that bad anymore. It had just been a phase, a stupid phase. Agnes had even started considering getting more piercings, and maybe more tattoos, and if she was lucky she would even convince Herzog to go make her company when she went to have the new piercings and tattoos.

But Sascha was right, the little bastard! Herzog would only stop when she died!

Then Herzog came out of the forest, running and already with the keys in his hand:

"I'm so sorry, Agnes!" He exclaimed and stopped next to her. He hesitated a little and Fritz pretended to be very interested on his boots. That gave Herzog the chance to kiss the young woman.

Once inside the house, the Standartenführer explained her that «silly Dietrich decided it was a smart idea to swing on the cliff and silly Konrad supported the idea». Agnes laughed and managed to push the death subject to the back of her mind.

However, while watching the young woman sleep, Herzog started to think about it.

* * *

**Weeeee, review?**


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